The Mulgrews of Waterloo Road: Spring Term
by LisaT
Summary: Episode 3.2: Simon unveils his plan for improving class participation, Mika questions Operation Baby, and Sue crosses the line...[Alt!S9; sequel to The Mulgrews of Waterloo Road: Autumn Term—read that first!]
1. Episode 1-1

_The end of Season 9 plus the sad news of _Waterloo Road'_s impending end has brought me back, although truth to tell this story has been bubbling for weeks. Other commitments have prevented me from doing much about it, but I was finally able to make a start this week. As a result, here's the first bit. The format will be the same as last time, so old readers know what to expect. New readers: please please go and read The Mulgrews of Waterloo Road: Autumn Term first or you'll be totally lost. I don't know that I'll be able to post as quickly as before—the next lot of weeks promise to be busy—but I'll do my best. As before, reviews, comments, crit etc all more than welcome and help to keep me going!_

* * *

**Mulgrew Household, 6.55am**

* * *

Christine Mulgrew stood at her kitchen island, idly mashing a teabag around a mug. Her attention was not focused on the beverage; she was too deeply engrossed in her thoughts. It was the first day of a new term at Waterloo Road—her second as Head—and after nearly three weeks off she was mentally preparing for the return to school. Hard to imagine that things could change so utterly in the space of three short weeks, but change they had, irrevocably. Murder tended to do that, even at a school as tempestuous as Waterloo Road. Her dreams were still haunted by the memory: Steve-o, shrieking abuse at former girlfriend (and the school's Head Girl) Dynasty Barry, Dynasty's white-hot fury, the gun, the shot… and the sickening thunk as Barry Barry landed at Christine's feet, his eyes wide in dead surprise.

Arms went around her waist and she stiffened slightly before relaxing into them, into the warmth and comfort that they offered.

'Didn't realise you were so keen to get back to work,' Tom teased, dropping a kiss just under her ear.

Reflexively she closed her eyes and moved her head, granting him better access. 'I couldn't sleep. It's a new term, it should be a new start… but it won't be, will it? We can't just move on. There's a new head boy to sort, and God knows how Dynasty will take that, there's counsellors coming in, new staff, new kids…'

'It'll work out,' Tom said gently. 'We'll do it together, you and me. Everyone's gonna be in the same boat, wondering what it'll be like, after—'

Christine turned in his arms. 'That's not all,' she continued tensely. 'I phoned the council the day it happened, to let them know. Bain had gone to Florida, they said, and he'd get back to me when he returned. I've been waiting and waiting and there hasn't been anything, no answer mail, no email, nothing. I'm going back in today not even knowing if I'm still going to have my job!'

'Hey. What happened last term was not your fault! You can't be blamed for Steve-o, it could've happened with anyone in charge!'

She raised her eyes to his. 'Yeah, but it wouldn't take much investigation to see how involved I got in the whole scenario, with the trial and all. They could say I got too close, that I overstepped the boundaries. They might even be right—'

'Chris. It'll be fine, I promise. And no matter what, I'm here, yeah?'

She turned away, taking a sip from her neglected cup and grimacing at the bitterness of the oversteeped tea.

'Even if I end up kicked out?'

'Especially then.' He squeezed her shoulders. 'Look on the bright side, if you're not at school we can snog whenever and wherever we want—'

Her lips twitched at that. 'Tom Clarkson, superannuated teenager—' She gave a a little gasp as he took the tea from her and spun her round to face him. 'Tom—'

'Superannuated nothin'. Besides,' he went on with a smirk, 'I wouldn't start with those jokes. You're older than I am, remember?'

'By about six months!'

'Six months is still six months. I'm your toy boy, me.'

'_Urrgh_,' grumbled Connor as he stumbled in, black hair every which way. 'Don't you two ever stop?'

'Don't you?' Tom retorted before Christine could respond. 'Didn't I hear your mother banging on your door last night for a solid five minutes—'

'Yeah, well.' Connor dismissed that with a wave. 'We're allowed.' He pulled open the fridge door and Christine winced in anticipation. She was not disappointed; her son turned an accusing stare on her. 'There's no eggs. How'm'I supposed to make breakfast without eggs?'

'I don't need anything,' Christine said hurriedly. 'I'm not hungry.' Now Connor's glare was joined by Tom's. 'I'm not. I'll make myself a cup of tea and get dressed—'

'I'll bring you something up,' Tom said flatly.

Connor clapped the older man on the back. 'Thanks, mate. She never listens to me.'

'You're a pair of naggers,' Christine muttered. She wasn't a morning person at the best of times and it had been years since she'd enjoyed food first thing. 'I'll have something later, I promise—oh, morning, Imogen.'

Her daughter-in-law's bright eyes took in the scene at a glance, and her pointed face split in a grin. 'They ganging up on you again?'

Christine managed a forced smile and made her escape at last, her head pounding as she pulled the kitchen door shut behind her. The hall was blessedly dark and quiet and she took a moment to lean against a wall and pull herself together. Her eyes were hot and sore and her stomach flipped, and not just because of the forthcoming day.

It'd only been one glass of vodka, just one in the dead of night when the nightmares refused to fade even when she opened her eyes, even at the feel of Tom's reassuring warmth beside her. One glass to help her sleep—and she'd poured the rest down the sink with a hand that had trembled only a little as every instinct screamed in silent protest. She'd cleaned her teeth carefully and climbed back into bed, the vodka sloshing unpleasantly in her tummy. Sleep had come, but not restful sleep; past and present and future had collided, leaving her slick with sweat and gasping with fear when she woke again … and now she was struggling to remember what she'd done with the bottle. If Connor discovered it—

Her mouth went dry and she pushed herself away from the wall and began to mount the stairs. Connor would not discover it, she told herself firmly. And even if he did, it had only been one glass. Just one.

* * *

**Barry Household, 8.00am**

* * *

'Dyn? Dynasty, are you up?'

'Yeah, Munch, I'm decent. Come right in.' Dynasty Barry finished running a brush through her sleek bob and gave a short nod of satisfaction at the sight of her reflection in the mirror. Her uniform was immaculate, her hair neat, her make-up subtle. She gave her Head Girl badge a small pat and turned to face her younger sister, who was peeping around the door.

'Where's Kev?'

'Still in the shower.'

'Still?' Kacey shook her head slightly. 'He's in there even longer'n you used to be, before you cut yer 'air.'

'Come and sit down,' Dynasty invited, doing so herself on the big double bed she and Kevin shared. Her boyfriend had moved in on Christmas Day and they'd hardly been apart since. 'What's up? Is it—Barry?'

Kacey's head tilted in a characteristic pose. 'It's always Barry. I'm scared, Dyn. Of goin' back there. Where it 'appened.'

'I know, babe.' Dynasty pressed her forehead against Kacey's and sighed. 'I'm not exactly looking forward to it meself.'

'Will it be gone?' Kacey blurted. 'The blood? Barry's blood? I read somewhere that it soaks into wood an' you can never get it off. Like that place McFall brought us to last year, that old palace with the blood on the floor.'

'What are you talkin' about?'

'That place in Edinburgh. Holly-something.'

'What's that about holly?' Kevin asked as he entered, mostly dressed and rubbing his hair with a towel. 'Dyn, have you seen me tie? And badge?'

'They're on the table where you left them last night,' Dynasty told him tartly. 'What do you this is, I'm your maid or somethin'?'

Kevin grinned as he tossed the towel in the corner. 'You're me personal brain, for all the important useful stuff.'

'The practical stuff, you mean,' Dynasty said, handing him the tie when he continued to look vaguely about the room. 'Some day you're gonna be like one of them professors you see on the telly, the boffiny ones that don't 'ave a clue about real life.'

'So? I've got you, don't I? Now tell us what Kace was sayin' about holly.'

Kacey remained quiet and Dynasty gave her sister a nudge. 'Go on, ask 'im. Betcha he'll know.'

'I—' Kacey tried before her voice seemed to die and she had stop; Dynasty could feel the effort it took for her speak again. 'I was wonderin'. About the hall in school, d'you think they'll have got the blood off? Or will it be like that place in Edinburgh, the castle with the plaque on the floor?'

'Holyrood House, you mean. Nah, you can bet Mrs M will 'ave sorted it. Not good for a school, is it?'

'What d'you mean, babe?' Dynasty asked as she pulled her sister close.

Kevin glanced up from settling his tie. 'That spot you're talkin' about, it makes Holyrood loads, don't it? People come to see it, the place where David Rizzio died. Who knows if it's even real blood? Could just be a money-spinnin' con for all we know.'

Dynasty could feel some of the tension leave Kacey's shoulders as the younger girl lifted her head.

'D'you mean it?'

'Yup. Honest, Kace, you don't need to worry about that. There won't be a sign of what happened, I promise.'

'Except inside us,' Kacey said very quietly. 'No-one can wipe them stains away.'

Dynasty chewed her lip and tried to keep her emotions under control as she was swamped by a suffocating wave of grief. Kevin must have realised, for he came to sit beside her, pulling both Barry girls into his arms. He was thin and slender for his age, but somehow he had the strength to hold them.

It was Kacey who drew back first, wiping at her eyes. 'What's the time?'

'Nearly time to go,' Dynasty managed through the tight pain in her throat. 'You ready, Kev? I don't wanna be late.'

'Yeah.' Kevin blew out a sigh. 'Just need to find me shoes.'

Kacey gave a spluttered laugh. 'God, Kev, Dyn's right. You get worse every day. I can see one of 'em from right here.'

Kevin blinked. 'Where?'

Kacey rose and Dynasty noticed that she seemed to sway. Only she must have imagined it, for almost at once her sister was moving with lithe grace to excavate Kevin's trainer from the pile of clothes on the floor.

'Here's one,' she called, chucking it towards them. Her aim was true and Kevin squawked as he grabbed it. 'An' here's…. The other!' she ended triumphantly as she flourished it.

Kevin went to take it. 'You're a star, kiddo.'

'Kiddo yourself,' Kacey complained. 'Yer only a bit older than me.'

'And I'm a prefect!' Kevin reminded her with more than a touch of smugness. 'Don't forget that, Kace. When we're in school I can tell you what to do.'

'Huh, yeah. Like to see it,' Kacey scoffed as Dynasty froze halfway through checking the contents of her bag. She only dimly heard the rest of the conversation between Kacey and Kevin as the former departed, was only dimly aware of her surroundings until Kevin gave her a slight shake.

'Are you OK?' He sounded alarmed.

Her breath caught as she looked up at him. 'It—it was what you said. About bein' a prefect. Oh, God, Kev, I never even thought. We're a prefect down, aren't we? Lost our Head Boy. We're gonna need a new one, aren't we—' Her voice broke.

He squeezed her hands so hard it hurt. 'We'll make it through, Dyn, you'll see,' he insisted. 'We'll survive. We got through last term, we can get through this.'

As Dynasty allowed him to pull her to her feet she found herself wishing she could be so sure.

* * *

**Grantly House, 8.30am**

* * *

'Breakfast is up, you lot. Come and get it!'

Rhiannon Salt grinned across the room she now shared with Jasmine Maguire. Two new girls had made some doubling up necessary and both girls had jumped at the chance when Mrs Budgen offered it, the Christmas holidays having cemented the bond that had begun to form over the previous term.

'There's Mags yellin', Jas. Ready? I'm starvin'.'

'Nothin' new there,' Jasmine returned, her eyes bright with amusement. 'You go on down, I'll be there in a sec. Just gotta finish me 'air first.'

'I don't know why yer always complainin',' Rhiannon observed as she paused with a hand on their dormitory door. 'You're dead lucky to have them curls. Most people'd kill for 'em—oh _bollocks_. I'm sorry, babe. Didn't think.'

Jasmine shook her head, keeping her eyes averted from her friend's. 'S'OK, honest. Go on, I'll be there proper quick.'

The sound of the door closing slowly proclaimed Rhiannon's reluctance, and Jasmine exhaled a shuddery breath once she was certain she was alone. Rhiannon hadn't meant it, she reminded herself. She just had a habit of "opening mouth and inserting foot" as Audrey—Miss McFall—had observed during the holidays. Certainly she'd inserted foot this time as only weeks before Jasmine's brother Steve had been responsible for the death of the school's Head Boy. Granted, Barry Barry had bullied and bribed his way to the position, and he'd controlled through fear rather than respect or love, but he'd still been one of them. A fellow pupil, part of the Waterloo Road family. Not even his worst enemy in school would have wished his death upon him—and he'd died a hero by saving his sister's life. Barry had been something of a legend in life for all the wrong reasons; Jasmine was sure he'd continue to be a legend in death. Given that, how could she possibly show her face in school now? Audrey and Maggie had told her it wasn't her fault, reminded her that she'd been instrumental in securing Steve-o's arrest, but that did help the fear that curdled deep inside. How could she face everyone who'd suffered at her brother's hands the term before?

Someone banged on the door and she stiffened, her fingers tightening over the wide-toothed comb she used. She didn't want to go downstairs yet. Everyone had returned the night before and she'd managed to avoid them by claiming she still hadn't finished her holiday homework. Rhiannon had given her the latest gossip, including a description of the two new girls. One in particular was a nosy cow, Rhiannon had opined; she'd been wide-eyed with excitement over the school's latest and had demanded all the (literally) gory details. Whilst Rhiannon had put down a large and heavy foot, Jasmine was sure someone would have obliged and surely that someone would not have neglected to point out that the murderer's sister was under Grantly House's very roof. The prospect of facing the old gang was bad enough without new people being chucked in for good measure.

'Jas!' Harley Taylor yelled. 'I know yer in there, McFall said to come an' get yer.'

_She would_, Jasmine thought with a flicker of old resentment as she remained very quiet and still. If she didn't respond perhaps the younger student would give up.

Vain hope. Another thump on the door.

'Come on!' Harley was sounding increasingly impatient. 'You can't hole up in there forever.'

She sighed and dragged unwilling feet across the room to the door, opening it so quickly that Harley only just avoiding falling over the threshold. He caught himself on the doorposts, dark eyes scanning her face anxiously.

'You comin'?' he pressed. Jasmine bit into her lip and he gave her a light punch on the shoulder. 'I'll come wiv yer. It'll be fine, we're all yer mates.'

'I don't want them all lookin' at me,' Jasmine said quietly. 'Starin', you know. Like I'm some freak. Especially them new girls.'

'They're nearly done. McFall was hustlin' them along, you know what she's like.'

Jasmine gave a reluctant grin at that. She did indeed.

'Come on,' Harley urged again. 'Yer don't want another of McFall's brekkie lectures, do yer?'

The sixth former sighed again and capitulated. 'Fine, I'm comin'.' She trailed Harley down the stairs, her fingers running along the painted panelling. The sound of voices mingling with the clatter of cutlery and crockery drifted towards them and she froze once again, a mad bevy of butterflies swooping in her stomach.

Someone emerged from the dining room just as they reached the foot of the stairs and Jasmine's heart sank when she heard Harley's muffled 'Bugger'. The girl was someone she'd never seen before, slighter taller than Jasmine herself with perfectly coiffed strands of blonde lying over her shoulders and blue eyes wide with fascinated curiosity.

'Oh _hello_,' she greeted in plummy tones that made Jasmine's own eyes widen. 'You must be Jasmine, aren't you. The murderer's sister, it's all perfectly thrilling.' She sidled closer while Jasmine tried to retreat up the stairs, Harley's presence at her back preventing any further flight. 'You must tell me all about it, I must know absolutely every last detail … My grandpapa would _adore_ to hear it, he does love a thriller so.'

'A—a thriller?' Jasmine stammered, hardly able to believe her ears. 'Is—is this a windup?'

Now the blue eyes facing hers were filled with injured innocence. 'Of course not, who could possibly joke about such a thing?'

'Ignore 'er, Jas, she's just some stupid new girl,' Harley fumed over Jasmine's right shoulder. 'C'mon, let's get brekker before it's all gone.'

He gripped her wrist and pulled her past the blonde into the comparative sanctuary of the hall.

* * *

Neither noticed the speculative gleam that appeared in the blue eyes, or the satisfied quirk of the lips that appeared once the new girl was alone.

'Louisa: _one_, Waterloo Road: _nil_,' she murmured, eyes turning hard with determination. 'I'll get you what you need by lunchtime, Gramps. I promise.'

* * *

_TBC, and don't forget to let me know what you think of this beginning!_


	2. Episode 1-2

_Hiya all! Thanks for all the reviews, favourites and follows, especially to:_

_**Guest**: Thank you! Good to see you back!_

_**Chantelucy**: Thanks! :)_

_**Daydreams-About-Falling-Stars**: I always intended to do a sequel, it was just a case of waiting for inspiration to hit. Took its time in coming, but..._

_**Jessiekat**: Yeah, there are some definite similarities between Louisa and Gabi, and physically I imagine them as very similar. However, that's pretty much where it stops—or so I hope!_

_Some familiar faces will appear in this story, but fair warning: they aren't always what they seem and I'm following my own interpretation of their characters so there may be some divergence from canon. Warning number two: this part is obscenely long, much longer than intended. You may want to be sitting comfortably. Most important of all—enjoy and please don't forget to let me know what you think!_

* * *

**Waterloo Road Carpark, 8.00am**

* * *

Tom locked his car with a jaunty press of the button on his key and twisted on one heel to look for Christine, who'd driven in just behind him. They'd decided to come to school separately until they'd had time to gauge the reaction to their relationship. They knew their friends would be happy for them but they were anxious to avoid any suggestion of unprofessionalism.

The carpark was gradually filling up, he noted. Nikki Boston went past with a terse nod and wave, to be followed by—wonder of wonders—George Windsor, and Tom's eyebrows shot up.

'Well done, mate!' he shouted to the other man, ignoring the glare Christine sent him as she locked her own car. 'You're actually in before 8.45, this a new year's resolution of yours?'

The French teacher stopped, his expression sour enough to curdle milk. 'Something like that.' He glanced from Tom to Christine, who was in the process of stacking plastic crates on the ground. 'Aren't you going to give our dear leader a hand?'

'I can manage perfectly well, thanks,' Christine put in tartly, and Tom grinned, shifting the pile of folders he was carrying.

'See? She wouldn't thank me for it. Besides, I've no hands to give. _You_, however—'

George gave him a second dirty look, but he took the hint and went to unburden Christine of two of the three plastic crates she was struggling with. Tom followed, giving his lover a half-wink as she rearranged her lightened burden.

'Thanks,' she told George, but her eyes sought out Tom's and it required effort to prevent the silly grin that wanted to come from spreading over his face.

This was still so new, he was infatuated as he hadn't been for… well, longer than he cared to remember. No wonder Connor and Imogen were by turns amused and bemused; if he was their age, he thought he would be, too. Sometimes he wondered if he was going through some kind of second adolescence; it was as if his entire being craved constant nearness to Christine in the way a flower craves the sun … but he knew better than to say so. Christine was still too wary, too damaged, for such effusions to carry much weight.

'What did your last slave die of?' George was grumbling as Christine stopped to lift several books from her own crate and dump them into his.

'Shut up and get moving,' she snapped, brushing past Tom and George as they moved across the carpark, up the steps, and through the main front door into the foyer. 'I'm the boss. And you're in flat shoes, I'm not. That enough for you?'

George paused to give a sorrowful shake of the head. 'Frailty, thy name is woman—'

'Do one, George!' drifted back to them.

Tom chuckled as George literally stopped to gape down the corridor after her.

'Sorry, mate. Livin' with teenagers, you know?'

The other man grunted and started to move towards the offices, while Tom's own progress there was halted by the sight of a young woman coming up the steps with what looked suspiciously like a small suitcase on wheels. Chivalry made him dump his bag and folders next to the sixth form lockers and cross the foyer to give her a hand.

'Oh thank you,' she gushed up at him as he took the suitcase from her. 'Honestly, you didn't need to, I have this down to a fine art. I was an air stewardess you see.'

'Ah,' said Tom, not really seeing at all.

The young woman stuck out a well-manicured hand. 'I'm Sue, it's good to meet you. And you are—?'

Thoroughly discomfited by her confident manner, Tom blinked twice before saying, 'Tom. Er, Tom Clarkson. Deputy Head,' he clarified as a pair of copper eyebrows rose in polite query. 'I'm sorry, Sue, but who—?'

'Oh, gosh, how silly of me! I'm the new Science teacher. Well, NQT, really, but oh my goodness, it's so amazing being actually able to call myself a proper teacher, it doesn't feel real yet, you know?'

'Er—'

'So what happens now?' Sue breezed without giving him a chance to answer. 'I mean, surely there must be procedures, something to do, rules you follow…' She giggled. 'I know all about rules. Cheltenham Ladies, then York, then St Hilda's for teacher training… and here I am, back at school! And the new girl, again!'

'Right,' Tom said, finally finding his tongue. He'd met some strange NQTs over the years but never one who insisted on chatting to one of her bosses as though they were at a cocktail party. 'You'd better come with me and meet the Head,' he continued, allowing his tone to become brisk. 'We're glad to have you, our science teaching has been rather lacking for the last term or two.'

'Well, gosh, I'm sure no-one cared–except perhaps the exam people,' Sue twittered as he led her towards Christine's office. 'I mean, from what I've read it was all awfully dramatic last term, what with abductions and murders and goodness knows what else! I told my dad working here could be the most exciting thing that's happened to me, _ever_!'

'Yeah,' he agreed absently as he opened the door into the offices. Sonya gave him a grin and a wave, and he paused.

'Sue, this is Sonya, the school secretary. She'll help you find your feet a bit.'

'Right you are!' Sonya agreed warmly, bustling around her desk to take Sue's hand and give it an enthusiastic pumping. 'And you know what the first bit of bein' made welcome is?'

Sue looked somewhat taken aback, Tom was glad to see. Sonya, on the other hand, was her usual unfazed self.

'Why, it's rosie lea, innit? How'd you wannit? Black, milk, sugar, lemon? We got 'em all.'

'Not in here we don't,' Christine interjected as she came to stand by the door that separated her office from Sonya's. 'Everything's still in the staffroom.'

Sonya's mouth formed a round O. 'Yeah, that's right, boss. We moved 'em after—'

'Sonya,' Christine interrupted gently, and the younger woman took the hint and vanished into the staffroom. The Head's mouth twitched as she turned to Tom and his NQT. 'And you are Miss Sue Spark, isn't that right?'

'You remembered!' It came as a girlish squeal that hurt the Deputy Head's ears.

Christine gave a little laugh. 'Oh yes. Your references were so good I couldn't possibly forget.'

'Awww.' Sue heaved a happy little sigh and looked from Tom to Christine and back. 'Do you know, I think I'm just going to _adore_ it here.'

Tom had to pull his expression straight and severe to cover the wild desire to laugh. Christine did not look as though she shared his amusement; there was tightness about her mouth and eyes and her smile was too stretched.

'Right,' she said, and Tom's gaze narrowed as he studied her. 'Well, Miss Spark, it's good to meet you. I'll make time for you this morning to discuss your induction; I realise it will be difficult as you are our only science specialist on staff at the moment, but we'll do our best for you.'

'Awww!' Sue gushed again, apparently not hearing the implicit dismissal in the Head's words, and Tom found he was no longer amused.

'Why don't you go on into the staffroom and get your tea from Sonya there,' he suggested. 'Mrs Mulgrew and I will be in shortly for briefing in any case, so we'll catch up with you then.'

Sue opened her mouth and he caught her eye. Abruptly, she shut it again and twisted on her heel, jerking her little case along with smooth expertise. When the connecting door had closed behind her, Tom turned to face Christine.

'Chris. What—is—_that_?'

Her head clunked back against the doorpost. 'The only science specialist we could get,' she said grimly. 'I lied just now. It was easy enough to remember her; she was the only one who applied. I didn't have much choice, especially when the council endorsed her.'

'An NQT?' Tom demanded incredulously, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder and steering her into her own room. 'Bit weird, don't you think.'

She gave a small shrug. 'Is it? Science is a shortage subject and her academic credentials are good. Beggars can't be choosers.'

'H'mmm. Kids'll have her for breakfast and spit out the bits.'

'Yeah.' She sighed, already sounding tired, and he longed to pull her into his arms for a hug. A few weeks ago he would have; now he was too aware of the need to keep those all-important professional boundaries up. 'Tom, keep an eye on her, would you?'

''Course I will. Part of my job as Deputy Head, isn't it.'

She groaned. 'I'm sorry, you know that. Of course you do, you've been doing this longer than I have.'

'Sit down,' Tom ordered and watched as she obeyed, her elbows going to the desk and her fingers pressing at her temples. 'I'll get your tea and we can talk. What's first for this morning?'

'Barry, Barry and Barry… with the staff and the kids. We can't pretend it didn't happen, it has to be addressed.'

'Yeah.' He stopped at the door when Sonya appeared, armed with his mug and Christine's. 'Son, you're a star. Thanks for this!'

He was about withdraw into the Head's office when the secretary made him pause with a furtive glance towards the staffroom.

'She's hiding sommat,' she whispered. 'Knows too much, she does, an' she was rootin' for more. Asking' about you and Christine and Barry and that. I don't like it. Watch yourselves, yeah?'

Now it was Tom's turn to give a strained smile, the old familiar feeling of disquiet twisting in his belly.

_Hey-ho_, he thought as he went to hand Christine her tea and take a seat facing her with his own, _trouble's looming. Already. So what else is new…_

* * *

**Hall, 9.00am**

* * *

The school hall was filled with the sound of students scraping their chairs as they sat down, but any chat was desultory at best and one of Louisa's perfectly groomed eyebrows rose in a quizzical expression as she studied her new schoolmates and their environment. It was far from what she was accustomed to; the hall's wooden floor bore deep gouges and scrapes, one of the stained glass panes that separated hall from foyer had been smashed, and a light strip above her was flickering in a fashion that proclaimed its imminent demise. Nor were the pupils any better; there were few immaculate uniforms and even fewer cut-glass accents.

On the stage a big lectern took pride of place, and it was flanked on the one hand by a group of staff and on the other by the assembled prefects. These last looked very serious, Louisa noted, but even the Head Girl was not what she'd expected. Her lip curled; what kind of representative was she if she couldn't even wear the uniform properly? The skirt, tights and shoes were correct enough, but the quilted jacket was decidedly _not_ the blazer that Louisa herself sported, and the corners of her mouth tilted upwards as she thought back to her last school. She'd disagreed violently with Paris Russell's appointment, but at least she'd _looked_ the part. Here… her lips gave a little quiver as she crossed her ankles neatly, as she'd been taught, and looked for someone to talk to.

There she was out of luck. Year 11, in front of her, were too busy collecting around a girl hunched in their centre to care about a new sixth former. Everyone who was anyone was up on the stage, meaning that the remnants were barely worth Louisa's attention. The younger children were definitely not worth her attention, and the only other girl on her row was the short person she'd encountered on the stairs earlier in Grantly House. Her name was Jasmine, Louisa remembered, and she was the murderer's sister … but when Louisa tried to catch her eye the other girl rose and moved to the row behind.

Louisa's mouth twitched again, this time from discomfort. She wasn't used to being ignored, let alone being ignored as pointedly at this. When someone touched her shoulder she jumped, and only just managed to smooth out the glare that wanted to come in response.

'Don't mind her,' the girl who'd tapped her from behind said. 'She's a funny one, Jas Maguire.'

'She seems to be,' Louisa agreed, allowing dimples to form. They made her look innocently sweet, and she'd known from early childhood how to use them to her advantage. 'Honestly, the way she reacted this morning when I tried to introduce myself! Anyone'd have thought she was the murderer and I was the police!'

The other girl grinned. 'Yeah, she's twitchy. Always has been. Don't bother with her, no-one likes her anyway. Even Dynasty an' that only pretend, 'cos after all Jas did help rescue Connor and Kacey last term—'

Louisa's eyes widened. She hadn't heard about _this_. 'Rescue them? How? And who're Connor and Kacey?'

Her companion pointed to the empty seat. 'Can I—?'

Louisa nodded, waiting patiently until the other was sitting next to her. 'I'm Louisa, by the way. What's your name?'

'Rebecca, but I'm always Becs. The only person who calls me Rebecca is Mr Windsor, him up there with t'long nose an' grumpy face. And the Head, when she's in a snit in English.' Becs sighed. 'Serious, after Connor went missin' I swear I was called Rebecca then more'n anyone had done, like, _ever_!'

'How come?'

Becs shifted, one eye going to the door, as if to watch for the Head's arrival. 'Well, he's 'er son, innit? That's him up there, in the front row next to Dynasty, the Head Girl. The empty space is for Barry, him that was killed last term. He was Head Boy, y'see. And then on Dyn's other side, the skinny kid, that's 'er boyfriend Kevin, He's the school genius. And the girl next to Connor who looks like a goth, she's Imogen, Connor's wife and Deputy Head Girl. They're all best mates, like.'

This distracted Louisa from the story of the rescue. 'You mean… _all_ of the senior prefects are closely connected to the Head's son?' Becs nodded. 'But… that's terribly unfair! That's nepotism, having the Head's son as Deputy Head Boy—'

'Oh, he's not. That's Jack, but 'e's late, as usual. Connor's just a prefect.'

'Even so, the Head's daughter-in-law as Deputy Head Girl, her son as a prefect, and their best friends as Head Girl and Deputy Head Boy—doesn't Mrs Mulgrew see an awful lot of them?'

Becs gave a nod. 'Don't she just. An' it gets better,' she added, leaning in closer, ''cos last term, before the trial, Dynasty there moved into the Mulgrews'. She lived there for ages 'til they had some row over Dynasty's abortion.'

Louisa's jaw dropped. 'Abortion?!'

There was no time for Becs to answer, for the hall's double doors opened and the school rose to its collective feet as Mrs Mulgrew, dressed in black, passed down the central aisle on her way to the stage, the heels of her shoes ringing loud amidst the sudden silence. Louisa eyed her new headmistress curiously as she took her place and found that once again she was surprised. She'd half-expected to find Waterloo Road's headteacher teetering drunkenly on the edge of the stage, her words slurring … but when Christine Mulgrew began to speak it was in a crisp voice accented by nothing more than her Glasgow burr.

'Welcome back to school, everyone! I hope you enjoyed your holidays and'— she paused to give several people a meaning look—'that you've returned to school remembering that this is an exam term and that you're prepared to work _hard_.' The students groaned, but there was no further protest and the Head's expression turned very grave. 'I know it must be strange for you to be here, in this room. Harder for some than others,' she added, giving a nod in Dynasty's direction, but the Head Girl did not acknowledge it; she continued to stare straight ahead, her eyes burning in a white face. 'It was a traumatic experience for everyone, and Barry's loss is felt by all of us as a school. He was our Head Boy, and he died a hero, saving his sister's life. Let's take a minute to remember him.'

As quiet descended on the hall Louisa heard a muffled sound next to her and glanced towards Becs; only the girl was not crying as she had at first feared. Instead, it looked as if she was trying not to laugh. Shocked in spite of herself, Louisa stared at her and Becs hissed, 'This is dead stupid, Barry was no hero—'

The shock-headed boy from that morning in Grantly House turned around to glare, his eyes shooting daggers at them. 'Shut up, you! Kacey'll 'ear you!'

Becs returned the glare and looked as if she was about to retort but Louisa jabbed her into quiet, anxious to avoid having attention drawn to her too soon.

'Right,' Mrs Mulgrew said once the minute's remembrance had expired, 'it's time you lot were in lessons, especially as break will be longer than usual.' There was an interested rustle and she explained. 'Barry… was Head Boy. The school has to go on, we need a new Head Boy. As before, your candidates are the other prefects: Connor, Kevin, Jack, Alex and Ryan. We'll also need another male prefect, but I think we'll leave that for today. You should all know those five well enough to make your minds up quickly, so at the end of period two your teachers will hand out voting slips. You'll have ten minutes to vote in addition to your usual twenty minute break; lessons start again at twenty to eleven but note, people! Lunch _will_ be shorter than usual to make up!' Another groan and she tutted. 'OK, I think that's everything. Election results will be announced in the dining hall at lunch, and again at afternoon registration. Up you get and—go!' She gestured as she finished, and the school obeyed on the word, the big room immediately filling with noise as the school hastened to get to its various classes.

As Louisa rose, ignoring the dribble of Becca's chatter, her eyes sought out the group of people on the stage and she gave an inward grin of satisfaction. With everyone else otherwise occupied, Mrs Mulgrew had gone to the prefects and was sitting on the empty seat with an arm around Dynasty, surrounded by her son, her daughter-in-law, and Dynasty's boyfriend.

_Nepotism_, Louisa reminded herself gleefully. It was rank nepotism and terribly unprofessional. And then another teacher came up—

'That's Mr Clarkson, the Deputy Head,' Becca observed and Louisa gave a distracted nod. 'He's dead nice, everyone likes him—oh, my _god_!'

Louisa's smirk came to fore once again as she saw the cause of Bec's surprise: Mr Clarkson's hand going to rest on Mrs Mulgrew's shoulder as he leaned over for a word, and the Head's response of a quick pat in a gesture of automatic intimacy that proclaimed their closeness louder than any words. Delight bubbled within the new girl; this was getting better and better: nepotism amongst the prefects _and_ an inappropriate love affair? Gramps would be so pleased.

* * *

**Mr Clarkson's room, 9.50am**

* * *

'All right, Year 12, wind your necks in!' Mr Clarkson ordered. 'The bell's going in ten minutes and you heard the Head in Assembly, we've voting to do. But,' he added impressively, 'if you mess around now I'll carry on after the bell's gone and that'll delay your voting and—well, I'm sure you can see where I'm going.' He grinned and the class grinned back and quietened down.

'Mocks start next week. Everyone happy with how their revision's going?'

Imogen raised her hand. 'I'm happy with mine, but could we have a session on essay writing in exams?' she asked anxiously. ''Cos of the time, it's not very long to write four essays, is it—'

'Nope, but you're in luck, Mrs Mulgrew,' Tom told her. 'I meant to tell you before; the exam board have said you can have extra time.'

Imogen felt her face flame as the rest of the class erupted. She couldn't hear what they were saying, but the sheer volume made it clear they weren't happy. Tom's eyes popped and she lipread his muttered _Shit_ and realised that he'd come out with that without thinking. It was the sort of thing he should have told her in private…

'It's OK sir, I don't need it,' she said hurriedly, eager to quell the riot. 'Never used it before, did I?'

'You may as well use it, you're entitled to it,' Mr Clarkson argued.

'But—' Imogen tried.

'How much time does she get?' Dynasty interrupted.

Now Tom was looking throughly discomfited. 'I don't think—'

'What about me, eh?' the Head Girl demanded, her tone shaded with aggression. 'Do I get no extra time? How much revision d'you think I've been able to do after watchin' me brother get gunned down three weeks ago?'

An unfamiliar voice said something behind Imogen. She couldn't make out the words, but the cadences were not common at Waterloo Road; they were too smooth, too modulated, and she wasn't altogether surprised when Dynasty stiffened and swirled in her seat. Curiosity getting the better of her, Imogen did likewise and found herself face to face with the Sixth's only new girl.

'D'you wanna say that again to me face?' Dynasty said fiercely, ignoring Mr Clarkson's order to keep quiet.

The new girl looked amused. 'I was only stating a fact. Imogen is deaf, is she not?'

Imogen quailed as Dynasty's chin lifted. 'So?'

'She's disabled, isn't she,' the new girl said, and all at once Imogen was as furious as her friend. 'She's disadvantaged, that's why she gets extra time, so that she can write in proper sentences—'

'All right, that's enough,' Mr Clarkson said, physically coming to stand in front of the new girl when the Head Girl leaned over threateningly. 'Turn around, everyone. Dynasty, that means you too—'

'But sir, you 'eard what she said about Imogen! She's not talkin' about anyone like that!'

Mr Clarkson glanced at them and barked out an order for the class as a whole to take out their file blocks and start drafting a revision timetable. Then he came to kneel in front of Imogen and Dynasty.

'Just leave it,' he said quietly. 'She's just a new girl, what does she know. Imogen, I'm sorry. I opened me gob before I thought … and yes, Dyn, you're right. You're due extra time for the exams and so is Kace. I'll talk to Christine about it, OK?'

Imogen watched out of the corner of her eye as Dynasty visibly simmered down and exhaled a sigh of relief. Mr Clarkson met her eyes and gave a tiny nod; she responded with a small smile.

'Good,' the Deputy Head said as he rose, glancing past the girls towards the clock. 'And the bell's about to go, folks. You,' he pointed at the new girl, 'you can hand out the slips sittin' on my desk. Go on, move!'

A jab in the ribs brought Imogen's attention back to Dynasty.

'We're gonna have to do somethin' about that one,' the Head Girl said darkly with a meaning nod in the new girl's direction. 'She's gonna be trouble, I heard all about her from Rhiannon earlier.'

Imogen's eyebrows went up. 'Yeah?'

'Yeah.' Dynasty gave a sickly smile when the slips landed in front of them. 'I say, thank you dahling,' she said in a parody of a 'posh' voice. The new girl simply moved on and Imogen looked reproachfully at her best friend.

'Come on, Dyn, you've got to give her a chance.'

'No I don't,' Dynasty snapped. 'I'm good at readin' people, me. I knew she was trouble even before Rhiannon told me about 'er quizzing people in the School House about Barry. Nothin' to do wi' 'er, is it? She's out for the gossip.'

'Can't blame her for that,' Imogen pointed out as she scribbled a name on her slip and folded it up. 'It's just a story to her.'

'Yeah? Well, it ain't no story to me,' Dynasty hissed. 'It's my life, it's me family's life, I'm not havin' some toff pore over all the details like we were some soap rag.'

'Dyn—'

'No, Imogen!' Dynasty slammed her pen down on the desk, making Imogen jump. 'Don't you dare try to make excuses for that cow, for anyone just out fer a cheap thrill over what happened to our Barry!'

'I'm not, I'm just trying to—'

Dynasty pushed her chair back with a jarring scrape that vibrated unpleasantly through Imogen's spine. 'Some best mate you turned out to be!'

'What's going on here?' Mr Clarkson demanded. 'Come on, Dynasty. You're Head Girl, you can't mess about like this—'

'What I can't do is sit 'ere and watch _this_.' Dynasty picked up her slip and pointedly ripped it in two, allowing the fragments to flutter to the floor. 'Sorry, sir, but whoever gets 'Ead Boy will be gettin' it without my vote!' With that, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the classroom, allowing the door to close behind her with a slam that made even Imogen wince.

'All right everyone, show over,' Tom said. 'Two minutes and the election's over, get on with it.'

Already finished, Imogen concentrated on packing her bag and getting ready to go as soon as the teacher gave the word. Once he did, she was one of the first on her feet. Her attempt to leave quickly was thwarted by the new girl.

'I'm awfully sorry,' she said apologetically. 'I didn't mean to put my foot in.'

'Yeah, well.' Imogen eyed her coolly, not forgetting what Dynasty had said. 'She's had a tough time lately.'

The new girl gave an elegant shrug. 'Absolutely, but haven't you had a tough time too? How long've you been deaf?' She signed the word for 'deaf' as she spoke and Imogen forgot about caution.

'You can sign!'

'Yeah.' The new girl switched off her voice and continued in BSL more fluent than Imogen's had ever been. 'My sister's deaf, she's at school in Newbury. I can't pretend I know what it's like, but I know something about it.'

'I've been deaf since I was a kid,' Imogen blurted as they left Mr Clarkson's room. 'But then, last term, it suddenly got worse. I used to be moderately deaf but now…' She gave a strained laugh and switched to BSL in her own turn. 'Now I'm deafer than that doorpost.'

The new girl put a hand on her arm. 'You're so brave to stay here, in mainstream,' she signed. 'It must be so hard.'

Imogen shrugged. 'Yeah, well.'

'It must help having your mother-in-law as Head.'

'Yeah, she's been amazin',' Imogen agreed. 'I don't think I could've stayed without her in my corner, her and Connor, they've kept me afloat. Well, and Dynasty and Kev too, of course. They're great mates, I'm dead lucky.'

'And now you've got me,' the new girl said, her hands moving with fluid grace. 'I'd like to be friends.'

A slow smile spread across Imogen's face. A combination of deafness, intelligence and a certain geekiness had prevented her from making friends easily. 'Can never have too many.'

'Definitely.' The other's girl's sign had emphasis.

'Yeah. Oh, one more thing, I still don't know your name?'

'It's Louisa.' The new girl fingerspelled her name. 'My sister calls me Lulu, she says it's easier to say—and sign!'

'Lulu,' Imogen said aloud. 'That's kind of cute, provided no-one confuses you with our one and only Lula.' She grinned and yanked out her phone to check the time. ', it's nearly twenty to. Gotta go or I'll be late for history.'

'Same,' Louisa signed, and the two exchanged a smile. 'Will you show me where to go? I'd hate to get lost and get in Miss McFall's black books when she's my house-mistress!'

By this time Imogen had put Dynasty's qualms aside. Dynasty, she reminded herself, was still grieving and thus inclined to be over-sensitive. Louisa—Lulu—was nice, and it was so _good_ to be able to talk to someone without having to strain to lipread. Dynasty would understand, she thought as she took Louisa's arm. She wasn't selfish about friendship.

'Come on,' she said, pulling slightly in the direction of Miss McFall's room, 'I'll show you where to go.'

* * *

Apologies for how this looks, something's gone a bit weird with the lines I'm using to signify scene breaks. If anyone knows how to fix it please give me a shout! Take care and TBC...


	3. Episode 1-3

_Thanks for the reviews, favourites and follows! All much appreciated… but admittedly reviews most of all. So…_

_**Jessiekat**__: You're right not to trust her. As to who her Gramps is…. *G*_

_**Paisley**__: Yay, another familiar 'face'! Thanks for saying you think I've got Sue right. I was worried about going slightly OTT. She'd be really easy to turn into a caricature… but hopefully not, because I have plans for her in this. Whether they're nice is something else, but then I don't think she is a terribly nice character at all. _

_**Guest**__: Hi, this is an ensemble fic so there will be more Kacey (a little coming up right away, in fact) but the focus remains on the Mulgrews so this definitely won't be Kacey-centric in any real way. I doubt I'll pick up on any of the Kacey storylines from Season 9—at this point this fic is pretty AU so it wouldn't really work. _

* * *

**Library, 10.50am**

* * *

'Hey.'

Connor glanced up from the history he was attempting to revise without much success. 'Hey yourself.' He watched as his best mate sat down across from him, slinging his back on the table with a thump. 'Did you vote?'

'Yup.' Kevin began to pull books out. 'You?'

Connor's shoulders twitched. 'Uh… no.'

'Guessin' that means you didn't think I could do it,' Kevin commented without rancour. He dropped his voice. 'Me, I voted for you.'

'I don't think you're supposed to tell me that.' Connor began to fiddle with his pen. 'Sorry, mate. I should've voted for you, shouldn't I? Better you than Jack,' he added. 'Dynasty'd kill him.'

Kevin grinned and flipped open his file block, the pages covered with untidy random squiggles that looked like a form of abstract art. Somehow Kevin learned everything he needed to know from those squiggles _and_ managed to produce essay after brilliant essay with a minimum of apparent effort; by contrast, Connor spent hours taking detailed notes in his tiny script and even longer trying to pull something coherent together. There'd been times when he'd swallowed his pride and asked Imogen or his mother for help with his coursework, but in exams it was just him and his own brain.

A brain he was doubting more every day.

Kevin must have noticed his despondency.

''Sup?'

'It's this stupid history.' Connor slammed his textbook shut and slid it away from him. 'I used to like history, but that was when it was interesting. All this political stuff, it's dead dull. Who cares which king lost America?'

'Not the Americans, anyway,' Kevin grinned. 'Did you know they sent _The Madness of George III_ back 'cos they wanted to know where parts one and two were? That's why it was renamed.'

Connor laughed out loud at that. 'Serious?'

Kevin shrugged. 'S'what I read online. Might be bollocks though.'

'It's just… it's just it's all so _hard_,' Connor burst out. 'Everyone said A'levels'd be hard, a big jump from GCSE, but I thought they were kidding, just your normal teacher talk. There's so much to get into my head and none of it seems to stick and… I'm scared I'm gonna mess up,' he went on quietly, staring at the table rather than his best mate. 'Imogen and Mum, they're so sure I'm dead clever and that I'll do well but me? I don't feel clever. Not next to them. Not next to you.'

'Brains aren't everything.'

'They help when your mum's the Head,' Connor snapped, irritated by the platitude. 'And when your wife's talking about applying to the best unis in the country. What if I apply to Durham with her an' they don't want me?'

'More fool them, yeah?' Kevin reached across to give him a clap on the shoulder. 'Man up, mate. We're not at that point yet. Worry about it if it happens.'

'It'll happen.' Connor's self-confidence—never great at the best of times—had taken a new plunge off the back of his revision difficulties and the prospect of another Head Boy election. The last one had been excruciating enough. 'You know what they say, expect nothing and you won't be disappointed.'

A bell rang and Kevin jumped to his feet. 'Coming? We've got those science refreshers to go to, remember.'

'I don't see the point,' Connor grumbled as he followed suit. 'It's all a waste of time, I'm not ever doin' science again. Why won't they leave us alone for our frees? It only gives me more to do at night.'

'Well mate, you know what to do,' Kevin said with another clap of the shoulder. 'You've got a hotline to the Head an' Deputy Head. Complain to them instead of angstin' over it.'

Yeah, like he'd do anything to upset his mum just now, Connor thought. Tom's presence had helped, but he'd spent too long aware of her every mood to stop now. There'd been something … off… about her since Christmas, something tense and strained that made him wonder if she was contemplating returning to the drink, and he loathed himself for wondering, for doubting her when she'd tried so hard.

But Kevin was waiting, expecting something light and flippant. He complied with an 'I hate you sometimes, d'you know that?'

Kevin grinned. 'Only when I'm right.' He forged ahead and Connor followed more slowly, brushing past a gaggle of Year 11s as they streamed in.

Kacey Barry grabbed his arm and he stopped, not unduly worried at the prospect of being late. 'Kace. How's things?'

She lifted her eyes to his and once again he was struck by how much weight she'd lost in the past months; the fluorescent strip lights above them were harsh, highlighting every dip and hollow in her thin face.

Her lips quivered as she lifted one shoulder. 'You know me, I'm survivin'.' She seemed unwilling to move on and he didn't feel he could leave her; there was something hungry in her eyes.

It was a hunger that called to him, reminding him of the last afternoon of their kidnapping adventure. They'd escaped from the hut where they'd been held and neither were dressed for wandering about in sub-zero temperatures. Eventually they'd had to stop and rest and they'd huddled together for warmth—and Kacey had told him how nice he was and how she wished Barry could be more like him. The words had caused a warm glow deep inside Connor, a glow that continued to burn even after Barry's shocking death.

Kacey had lost her brother, he reminded himself now, but she still had him. If she wanted him. He gave her a loose one-armed hug. 'Just remember, I'm here for you.'

She nodded, appearing unwilling to move away. Then, 'I hope you get it.'

His brow contracted. 'What?'

''Ead Boy,' she went on. 'I 'ope it's you.'

'It won't be,' he said, his throat stiff. 'Nobody'd want us and it'd be too awkward anyway, what with my mum and all.'

Her chin lifted. 'Sod that. I know we're not s'posed to say, but you got my vote. I—I think you shoulda got it before, you'd 'ave been better than Barry.' She left him abruptly after that, and Connor was so surprised that he could only gape after her until he was recalled to himself by Miss Boston's trenchant demand for him to get to the science lab.

'You're a prefect, and Miss Spark's brand new,' she reminded him as she ushered him towards the library's double doors. 'Won't do to give a bad impression, will it now?' A light shove sent him on his way, and Connor's heart sank to his shoes as he plodded towards the stairs and the lab.

Great, just _great_. More expectations to fulfil; more people to disappoint.

* * *

**Head's Office, 11.30am**

* * *

'Well?' Christine leaned against her door and looked into the front office where Audrey and Sonya were sorting through the voting slips. She and Tom had agreed that it was better for them to remain uninvolved, given Connor. 'Any news?'

Audrey looked up. 'It's beginning to look fairly certain, I must say.' A moment of hesitation and then, 'It's not Connor. I'm sorry, Christine.'

She dismissed that with a wave. 'I'm not sure I expected it would be. I'm sorry for him, though. I think he could do with the cheering up.'

She kept her voice light; she didn't want to entertain the suspicion that Connor's mood dovetailed with her own. When she was happy, so was he. It was as simple and as inevitable as night following day and she hated it. He was practically an adult, a married man no less; wasn't it time for him to live his own life and leave his mother to deal with her own messes? But it didn't work like that for them. It never had.

Sonya broke into her thoughts by giving a little squeal. 'He got it! I told you he would, Audrey. That's a fiver you owe us an' all.'

'There's such a thing as a gracious winner, you know,' Audrey commented drily as she gathered the slips into the bin Christine had produced for the purpose. 'I'll pay up at lunch, I should have known better than to bet against it.'

'Kevin?' Christine asked. The other two nodded in tandem and a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. 'Can't pretend I'm surprised. I'm glad. I don't think that Dynasty could work with anyone else.'

Audrey's expression turned grave. 'Can she work with him?' she countered. 'In Barry's place? Personally I wouldn't be so sure, after her little explosion this morning.'

Christine glanced at the clock, aware of its ticking. The bell would be going shortly for the last lesson before lunch, and she was due with Year 12. She'd planned to announce the results, but … 'Explosion? What's this?'

The history teacher pursed her lips and fixed dark eyes on the Head. 'Tom said that there'd been tension between Dynasty and that new girl, Louisa. It came to a head over the voting slips. Apparently, Dynasty walked out without voting at all.' Audrey sighed. 'Christine, do you not think Carol Barry should've kept those girls home a bit longer? It's terribly soon—'

'It'd never be the right time,' Christine interrupted in a hard tone. 'Barry was killed here, in our school hall, there's nothing we can do to make that not true. No, I agree with Carol. Better for the girls to get straight back on, as it were.'

'But—'

'What would you rather they do, Audrey? Wallow in it? D'you know where that leads?'Audrey was quiet, but Christine was on a roll. 'Of course you don't, you've never experienced anything quite like that level of despair, have you.' A gasp from Sonya told Christine she should shut up, but it was as if some inner demon had taken possession of her. 'In case you've forgotten, those girls have been to hell and back in the past six months. If they stop they might never be able to get going again, if they stop too long to think—' Belatedly, she bit her tongue.

Audrey and Sonya were staring at her as if she'd grown another head.

'Christine, is everything all right?'

That was Audrey, her tone wary but her eyes soft with genuine affection, and for a moment Christine wasn't sure whether to laugh, cry or throw something … or even better, to let forth a flood of acid expletive that twisted around the burning longing for a drink. That one glass of vodka seemed so long ago and the strain of trying not to think about it, of battling the guilt for even wanting it, was becoming too much.

She turned to go back to her own room, her lips tight, and closed the door hard. Through it she could hear the concerned murmurs coming from the other two, and once again a darkness coursed through her, a resentment that they cared enough to refrain from the outright condemnation she felt she so deserved.

The clock's ticking was loud in the quiet room and she forced herself to inhale deeply, striving for calm.

_Who do you think you're fooling anyhow?_ she thought bitterly as she resumed her seat behind the big desk and waited for the bell to go. _Some Head you are, you can barely control yourself let alone anyone else…_

* * *

**Mrs Mulgrew's room, 11.50am**

* * *

'Sit here, Lulu,' Imogen urged, drawing the new girl down beside her. They were in the second row, nearer to the teacher than Louisa would have preferred, but she sank into the seat Imogen had indicated without a murmur.

Imogen looked relieved and leaned in. 'Hey, thanks for not making a fuss. Dynasty doesn't like sitting this close.' The glance she sent over her shoulder to where the Head Girl sat—next to Rhiannon—was wistful, and Louisa had to struggle to hide a smirk. She didn't want to drive Imogen back into Dynasty's arms.

'It's OK,' she signed. 'I know it's easier for you to lipread here.'

'It's much better,' Imogen signed back as Mrs Mulgrew began speaking. 'Even Chris—I mean, _the Head_—needs to be reminded sometimes.'

'Imogen,' Mrs Mulgrew said sharply at that point, and Louisa saw the other girl give a guilty start. 'Want to share that with the rest of the class?'

Louisa saw Imogen's usually pale skin flush pink as she shook her head.

Mrs Mulgrew's gaze rested on Louisa for a moment, but she aimed her remarks at Imogen. 'I suggest you try to concentrate now and leave the chatting for later, h'mm?'

'Sorry,' Imogen said meekly and Mrs Mulgrew resumed her whistle-stop tour through _Tess of the d'Ubervilles_.

Louisa was already more familiar with Hardy's novel than she wished to be, so she focused on surreptitiously studying Imogen. The other's expression was intent, her eyes following her mother-in-law's every movement, and Louisa began to wonder if she'd hit on the right person. Her sympathy for Imogen was genuine enough, given that she'd spent her life in the shadow of deafness, but Imogen's attraction for Louisa at this point largely started and finished with her relationship to the Head—and now she was doubting whether Imogen could (or would) give her the dirt she needed.

_Well_, she thought as Mrs Mulgrew instructed them to begin working in pairs, _there was only one way to find out. _

'Isn't this awfully awkward?' she murmured. 'Having your mother-in-law teaching you? I mean, it's bad enough that she's Head—' but Imogen shrugged.

'She taught us before she was anything else,' she said absently, frowning as she rifled through her book. 'She's one of the best teachers in the school. Always was, even when—' she caught herself and broke off, glancing furtively at Louisa as though hoping the other girl had not noticed the near-slip.

_Fat chance_, Louisa thought scornfully.

'Go on,' she urged. 'You can't stop there. Even when what?'

'Let's just do this, shall we?' Imogen suggested. She began to chew on her pen. 'So what do you think, how would you describe Tess's relationship with Angel?'

'Who cares, he's a hopeless weed,' Louisa remarked caustically and Imogen grinned.

'He _so_ is.' She began to nibble her pen thoughtfully, examining the front cover of her text. 'Weird book to choose.'

Louisa glanced at her quickly. 'What do you mean?'

Imogen was staring at her mother-in-law. 'It's just… This is a book about rape, isn't it?'

Taken aback, Louisa gave a single nod. 'And?'

Imogen's eyes went round. 'You don't know? I thought one of those gossips in Grantly House would've told you everything—'

'I know about Barry, naturally. D'you mean there's _more_?' Louisa interrupted.

Imogen looked uncomfortable. 'Oh. Then I probably shouldn't say.'

'Oh, come on, you can't leave it there,' Louisa coaxed. 'Besides, it sounds like everyone knows, whatever it is.'

The other girl sighed. 'Guess that's true. Well, rape, it's um, it's happened to two people in this room.' She began to play with her pen before saying in a rush, 'One of them's Dynasty, and—and then there was Barry. That's why she's a bit off at the minute, just cut her some slack, yeah?'

Now it was Louisa's turn to go wide-eyed, sincerity mixing with glee. 'Seriously? And Mrs Mulgrew knows, doesn't she, and she still chose this text? That's horrible!'

'What's horrible?' Mrs Mulgrew herself asked, appearing beside them with the startling suddenness of a genie materialising from a bottle. 'This doesn't sound like you're discussing _Tess_, girls.' The look she sent them turned Imogen pink once more, but Louisa remained her usual serene self.

'I promise, we're staying on-task,' she said, and the corner of the Head's mouth twitched; Louisa didn't know whether it meant she was amused, annoyed, or both.

'That's good to know, Miss Fox. I hope you meant it, because the time for discussion's over. Right everyone!' she called, her tone changing as she turned to face the class, 'eyes to the front. Jack, we'll start with you. What have you and Ryan come up with—and let's have _sensible_ answers, people!'

Louisa zoned out during the discussion and was recalled to attention only when Mrs Mulgrew announced that she had the results of the election to hand. Next to her, Imogen stiffened, leaning forward.

'I appreciate that this has been difficult for everyone,' Mrs Mulgrew was saying, 'but especially for you lot—and Dynasty most of all.' Louisa was aware of Imogen turning to seek out her friend, and equally aware of her downcast expression when she resumed her proper position. Dynasty mustn't have responded; more fool her. 'Right, then. I wouldn't say the result is unanimous, but it's … pretty clear. Kevin, you're now our Head Boy.' The class gave a subdued ripple of applause. 'And that does, of course, leave an unfilled slot for Deputy Head Boy: Connor, that's you, son.'

The warmth in Mrs Mulgrew's voice as she ended made Louisa give an inner smirk. Better and better. She hadn't got as much dirt as she'd have liked, but she thought it would be enough for Gramps, considering. She'd phone as soon as the bell went, the sooner he knew, the better. Knowledge, he was always saying, was power.

'Come on, boys, come and get your badges,' Mrs Mulgrew was urging. 'The bell's about to go. Connor, have you got your prefect badge with you? I'll need to take it back when I give you this.' The Head held up a small metallic shield that glinted in the light and Louisa could see that Imogen was beaming with pride as she reached out to squeeze her husband's hand when he passed her on his way to his mother's desk.

'Um, I forgot my badge,' Connor mumbled, but Louisa—who had exceptionally good hearing—heard. 'Can I give it to you later?'

'As long as you do, son,' Mrs Mulgrew responded in a like murmur with a light touch on Connor's shoulder. 'Well done. I'm proud of you, you deserve this.'

'Don't, Mum, not here.' Connor did not sound especially delighted by his promotion, Louisa thought. He returned to his own seat, his eyes seeking out Imogen's as he went.

And in the meantime, the new Head Boy had not moved.

'Kevin?' Mrs Mulgrew prompted. 'What are you waiting for?'

The class went dead quiet.

'Dynasty?' Louisa heard Kevin say. 'Dynasty, is this OK with you? I'll only take it if—'

A chair crashed, metal ringing off wood. 'Then you'll be waitin' a long time, boyo.' Dynasty's accent was harder than ever. 'It's bad enough you've taken Barry's place at home with me mum, are you tryin' to steal it at school as well?'

'Dyn—' Kevin tried just as Mrs Mulgrew put in a quick, 'Everyone else can go. Yes, Connor and Imogen, that includes you!'

Louisa obeyed reluctantly, seeking out Dynasty and Kevin in turn as she left the room. Dynasty was rigid, making no effort to reset her overturned chair, and Kevin was still seated, his entire body leaning in her direction.

'Come on!' Imogen urged, tugging Louisa along. 'We don't need to be here for this—Connor! Connor, wait!' and she detached herself from Louisa and went after her husband.

Gradually, the others melted away, only too happy to take advantage of an early release from a lesson. Louisa bent down and began to play with the shoelaces of the designer brogues which had been _de rigeur_ at her last school, and strained to hear through the classroom door.

It was futile. Either the three within were speaking too quietly, or they were too far from the door for even Louisa's excellent hearing. She grimaced and rose to her feet, her shoulders automatically resuming the straight bearing she'd acquired from hours and hours on horseback. Through the classroom window she could see Kevin standing awkwardly to one side while Dynasty lambasted him—her posture made it crystal clear what she was doing—and Louisa leaned closer, her nose almost touching the glass.

'Louisa, what are you doing?'

The voice was so unexpected that she jumped violently, her heart thumping as she wheeled to face the speaker.

'Miss Spark,' she squeaked.

'Come here.' The new teacher grabbed her wrist and pulled her away from Mrs Mulgrew's door to the corridor that lead to the next flight of stairs and gave her a little shake. 'What did you think you were doing, with your nose to Mrs Mulgrew's door like that?'

Louisa threw her off. 'What d'you think?'

'Louisa.' Miss Spark gave her the gently pitying look that the girl had always hated. 'You need to be careful, you don't want to get into trouble at once, do you?'

Louisa's mouth opened as she prepared to let rip, but something in Miss Spark's expression as she twisted the ring on her left hand made her pause. 'No.'

'Good. Now, the bell hasn't gone yet, has it? You're jolly lucky it was me who found you and someone else, h'mm?' The teacher gave a tinkling laugh. 'Run off and … well, at least look like you're doing something useful.'

Louisa forced a mockery of a sweet smile and reminded herself why she was doing this; of the glint of the Head Girl girl badge that was hers and hers alone. 'Yes, Miss Spark,' she cooed.

The older woman gave her a patronisingly maternal squeeze of the shoulder. 'See you later, Lulu! Remember, if you can't be good, be careful!'

_Like you, Auntie Sue?_ Louisa thought as she moved away, intent on finding a quiet corner to place her call. _You wouldn't know careful if it bit you on the arse!_

* * *

**Head's Office, 12.40pm**

* * *

Christine leaned back in her chair with her eyes closed as she tried to pull herself together after the scene in her classroom. Dynasty's reaction to Kevin's appointment had been … almost virulent, the Head remembered. The Head Girl had hurled accusations at Kevin whilst the poor lad curled up like a threatened hedgehog and waited for her to run down. She had, eventually, but instead of dissolving into tears she'd turned on her heel and stalked out of the classroom, leaving Christine with a distraught Kevin on her hands. It had taken ten minutes of hard talking to convince him to wait; to not simply hand in his resignation immediately… eventually she'd resorted to phoning Connor and had rarely been so relieved to see her son and daughter-in-law when they returned in answer to her call for help. Imogen had promised to go after Dynasty while Connor had taken Kevin off, leaving his mother to wish that she could seek Tom out for a rant (and perhaps something more, but they couldn't, not in school hours). She'd returned to her office, ostensibly for lunch, but the sight of the squashed sandwiches (they usually were squashed by the time she got to them) was anything but appealing. Vodka, now, that would hit the spot—

A timid tap at the door made her start and she had to force herself to call a calm, 'Come in!'

Sonya peeped around, her eyes like saucers. 'Christine, there's just been a call from the council—'

'And?' Christine prompted as her heart skipped a sickening beat.

Sonya gulped. 'It was Mr Bain's secretary. He's just caught up after 'is Florida trip an' 'e's not 'appy, she says. He's coming to see you at two thirty.'

'Can't he change it?' Christine asked quietly. 'I'm supposed to be teaching Year 7 and he surely he understands how shorthanded we are—' but Sonya was shaking her head.

'Adamant, she was.'

Christine gave a forlorn laugh as she looked around her office. 'Oh, well. It was nice while it lasted.' Even Sonya could not miss the irony, and Christine saw her wince.

'It might not be—_that_,' the secretary said, seemingly gaining the courage to enter the Head's office properly. 'It might just be a rap on t'knuckles. Barry wasn't your fault, Christine.'

Christine clasped her hands tightly on her desk, so tightly that her nails dug into her knuckles. 'Maybe, maybe not, but we both know the writing was on the wall as soon as Barry died.' She pushed herself to her feet. 'I … Would you be a star and get me a box for my stuff?' Sonya looked as though she was going to protest, but Christine made a negating movement with a finger, adding a soft, 'If you don't mind, I think I'd rather jump before I'm pushed.'

Sonya sighed.

'Sure, boss, I'll see to it, don't you worry.'

The acquiescence told Christine all she needed to know and she dipped her head so that the secretary could not see the treacherous tears. She managed to swallow the hard lump in her throat; there was one thing that needed to be said and she needed to say it now. Something told her she'd be in no fit state to do so later.

'Sonya?'

The younger woman turned with a questioning look.

'I know I can be a bitch, the boss from hell, eh?' Sonya opened her mouth, but Christine barrelled on. 'I just wanted to say … thanks. I'm just some jumped-up alkie English teacher and the fact I've been able to do this job at all … well, it's mainly been down to you and Tom. I owe you.'

She could hardly get the words out and Sonya's eyes glistened as their gazes met across Christine's desk.

'It were nothin', me love. Just remember, no matter what, you're still me boss. All you gotta do is say the word. You need anythin', you say an' I'll be there, an' so will all the kids and teachers of this school, I swear.'

It was a clear declaration of loyalty, but just then it was no comfort at all.

* * *

_Hey, anyone else having trouble with the dividing lines in editing? It seems to show ok in the final thing, but it's a bit weird. So... what did you think? How many people saw that coming? _

_TBC!_


	4. Episode 1-4

_Hey! Thanks a million million (isn't that a trillion?) to **Jessiekat**, **Paisley** and **chantelucy** for their reviews. Please, please, keep those reviews coming. They fuelled me through the last story and they'll keep me going through this one, but I really do need your comments, ideas, feedback etc. _

_More Sue—and a twist that I don't think is much of a twist at all. Just remember, this is not entirely the same universe as the TV show—and not just 'cos Tom's still alive. :)_

* * *

**Staffroom, 1.05pm**

* * *

'Sonya. _Sonya_!'

Lost in deep and gloomy thought, Sonya came back to herself only when someone's hand closed over her wrist. Blinking dazedly, she realised it was Audrey.

'Sorry, I was a world of me own there. What did you say?'

Audrey was looking worried. 'Never mind, it wasn't important. What's wrong? Has something happened? You've hardly moved since you came in, even your tea's untouched!'

The secretary shifted awkwardly on her seat. 'Christine's clearin' her desk,' she blurted and silence fell like a stone, causing Sonya's cheeks to flame. 'That Mr Bain's stuck-up secy phoned to say 'e was comin' to see 'er at half two and that was it, she wanted me to get 'er some boxes.'

'Did you?' Audrey asked gently.

'I couldn't not!' Sonya wailed. 'She said she didn't wanna be pushed, an me, silly cow that I am, I couldn't find the words to argue, could I. 'Cos I couldn't 'elp thinkin' she was right. That snooty bitch from the council didn't ask us when it'd suit or anythin', she just phoned an' started givin' orders like she was our boss or sommat—'

'Isn't she?' the new teacher, Sue her name was, asked. Her careful enunciation cut across the ripple of surprise resulting from Sonya's revelation. 'Waterloo Road's a council school, doesn't that mean we need to do what they say?'

The older teachers said nothing with such expressiveness that Sue's fair skin flushed with embarrassment. At any other time Sonya might have felt sorry for her, but not just then.

She nodded emphatically as Nikki Boston said, 'It doesn't quite work that way, Miss Spark. They hold the purse strings so yes, they have some power, but they don't hold absolutely sway. Otherwise what would be the point of having a head teacher? A Head isn't just an administrator.'

'Well, perhaps it's a good thing,' Sue said brightly, neatly crossing her ankles. Her shoes, Sonya noted, were a gleaming patent red. _Like blood_ flashed through her mind and her stomach flipped, remembering Barry. 'Mrs Mulgrew's not a _proper_ head teacher is she, I mean she hasn't got a headship qualification and surely a school like this needs someone with all the right letters after their name.'

'_Bollocks_,' George Windsor snarled, and Sonya could have kissed him. 'What a school like this'—George's voice went positively falsetto as he quoted Sue—'needs is someone with actual real life experience, not some PC crap learned from books. Christine might not have some fancy-pants letters but she's not exactly short on life and even our idiotic council can see that, I'm sure.' The staff broke into applause and George's eyebrows rocketed towards his hairline.

But Sue did not seem flustered. She gave a small shake of the head.

'But see, that's what I mean,' she argued and Sonya couldn't help gaping at the young woman's self-confidence. 'It's not just about the letters and life and all that, it's about being able to bond with the kids, understand where they're coming from, really be relevant to them. Wouldn't someone young and, oh I don't know, someone _cool_, be better? I mean, Mrs Mulgrew's no spring chicken, is she?'

'She's hardly on the verge of collecting her pension either,' Audrey put in drily at that point, her eyes round behind her spectacles. 'In any case, she's got a teenage son. I think she gets enough exposure to today's kids to be relevant, if that's what's worrying you.'

'_And_ she's your boss until the council say otherwise,' Nikki added, biting into her apple with an audible crunch. 'Which hasn't happened yet. While _you_, Miss Spark, are simply an NQT who's on probation. Take my advice and zip it. Remember who'll be signing those forms at the end of the year.'

Sue smirked and Sonya found she'd had enough.

'Come on then, just spit it out! You know something, it's been written all over you since you came in this morning.' Sue raised an eyebrow and Sonya glared. 'Are you a spy? Is that it? Are you spyin' for the council?'

Sue deliberately recrossed her ankles. 'How absurd. How can little old me be a spy, I'm just an NQT like Miss Boston said.'

'_Not_ just any NQT,' a male voice said and Sonya turned to see Tom Clarkson standing at the door between the staffroom and the offices. 'Isn't that right, Miss Spark?' He closed the door behind him with a definite thud and Sonya winced, thinking of Christine only a room away. 'You got the job for two reasons: one, we were desperate and two, the council made it sound like you were God's gift to teaching. That doesn't tally with what the kids have told me this morning, which leaves me wondering why Bain and company were so eager to land you on us.' He drew nearer and Sonya actually tensed. She'd never been afraid of Tom before, but just then he radiated tightly coiled anger. 'Are you part of some campaign to undermine Christine? Because if you are—'

'I don't need to undermine her, she managed that all by herself!' Sue hissed. 'Let's see, shall we? She's an alcoholic who can't keep her own son safe, a head teacher who gets one of her pupils killed, who allows her son and his cronies to rule the school, who's having a _totally_ inappropriate relationship with her deputy head because, let's be honest, that's why you're defending her. She's your _mistress_!'

Silence once again, so profound that Sonya was sure she could hear everyone breathing. It was broken almost at once by the rhythmic resumption of Audrey's knitting needles and Nikki's 'Not before bloody time!'

Audrey was smiling. 'When did this happen, Tom? Over Christmas?'

Her question provoked a torrent to which Tom tried to respond, but they were cut off by Sue's shrill 'Don't you _care_?'

'Why should we?' George barked, shooting daggers at Sue over the top of the _Times Ed_. 'Provided they do their jobs and don't annoy us more than they can possibly help, what they do in his or her or indeed their bed is no-one's business but their own, and frankly, I'd prefer not to think about it.'

'Likewise, mate, likewise,' Tom assured him. His tone was genial but Sonya could see that his eyes were hard when they returned to Sue. 'See? Yeah, our staff does care about me and Christine, but not in the way you think. Sure, we know what the rules say, but Waterloo Road isn't just any school and sometimes the rules are made to broken—'

'Really? Well, let's see what Dad has to say about that, shall we?'

'_Dad_?' Sonya squeaked.

Tom went an odd shade of greenish-grey. 'Dad? Who? Who's your dad?'

Sue got to her feet, lips quirked, and shifted her leather teaching satchel on her shoulder. 'Didn't I say? Silly me. Robert Bain. Yes, the Director of Education, he's my dad and when he hears all I've got to say you and your precious Christine are _finished_! This school deserves better and better is what it'll get!'

The door slammed as she left, and Tom sat down hard on the arm of Sonya's chair, the one nearest the door. 'Shit.'

She glanced up at him. 'Yeah, an' you gotta go to Christine and warn her! She needs to know before that pillock gets here!'

'She's right.' Audrey leaned forward, her eyes flicking towards the clock. 'It's after half one, Bain's coming at half two, didn't you say, Sonya?'

Sonya nodded dumbly.

'So don't waste time, Tom!' Audrey urged. 'Christine needs to know and she needs to know _now_—'

Christine herself interrupted. She must have entered so softly that even Sonya, even Tom, did not realise.

'What? What do I need to know? It must be important if all the shouting is anything to go by.'

Sonya glanced up and her heart clenched at the sight of the familiar wry twist of her boss's lips. She put a hand on Tom's arm.

'Tell her.'

He nodded, squeezing Sonya's shoulder as he rose. 'C'mon,' he said, putting an arm around Christine. Sonya could hear her startled gasp. 'No, don't worry. I'll explain. C'mon. This is better done in private.'

Sonya had never considered herself as either imaginative or superstitious, but she couldn't help thinking that the door closing after them resembled a tolling bell sounding the end of an era.

* * *

**Head's Office, 1.30pm**

* * *

'Well?' Christine demanded as Tom kicked her office door shut behind them. 'What do you need to tell me?'

Tom guided her to the sofa and dropped into it, grabbing her hand and dragging her down beside him. 'It's that little cat you've hired,' he told her grimly. 'Sue Spark. She's Bain's daughter.'

'Robert Bain?'

'Yup.' Tom stared moodily into the middle distance. 'And she's made it clear she's got it in for you, God knows why.'

'She's Bain's _daughter_?' Christine sounded stunned. 'But _how_?'

'She must've used her mum's maiden name or something. Leaves a sour taste, doesn't it? I can't help wondering if this has been planned.'

'Since last term, you mean? I interviewed her… let's see, I think it was just after we got Connor and Kacey back. You'd gone on those training days, remember, and we agreed that I'd do the interviews.'

'And she was the only person to show?'

He could feel her stiffen beside him. 'Yeah. Why, don't you believe me?'

'Don't be daft, 'course I do. It's just odd, don't you think? We advertised in all the usual places, there should've been at least a few applicants.'

Christine stared at him. 'You're right, that is odd. I should've thought of it myself but my head was still in a whirl… God. D'you mean that's _another_ mistake? I'm starting to think that it's a good thing I'm being kicked out.'

For the first time Tom paid attention to their surroundings, and the sight chilled him. Almost all signs of occupancy had gone; the room was barren and bland, a blank template devoid of all personality apart from two tiny defiant markers: the pot plant on top of filing cabinet, the one he knew Nikki had given Christine just after her accession to the headship, and the single photo on the desk. He didn't need to look at it to know what it was; an old photo of Christine and Connor from a holiday in the sun some years ago, during one of her rare periods of sobriety.

The touch of her hand on his roused him and he glanced at her, surprised to see that she was smiling—and he found himself smiling back.

'What?'

Her hand went to his cheek, cradling it. 'Soon this'll be yours,' she murmured, leaning in to kiss him. 'All of it. The big office, the cushy chair… I don't mind, Tom, I swear. You'll be better at it than I ever could be, you're the best thing in this place.' She kissed him again and he was too surprised to say anything. 'Just promise not to fire me? Let me go back to my classroom and—' Unable to listen to more, he put a hand over her mouth.

'I don't want it,' he said harshly. 'That chair's yours, you've earned it. Chris, you mustn't let them sack you. Not over Barry—or—or anything else that little bitch has come up with.'

Christine went very still. 'What's she been saying?'

Tom ran his hands up his face and through his hair. 'Someone's been talking. She was chucking all sorts of stuff about, none of it major but… it could be twisted. Like you and me. Like your kids being senior prefects. Your alcoholism… how'd she get hold of that? I thought the council didn't know.'

'They didn't. Michael promised me they didn't.' Christine's colour had faded, he saw, her features going pinched. 'But it's common knowledge in school, isn't it? All it'd take would be a single comment—' She dropped her face in her hands and continued in muffled tones he had to strain to hear. 'God, Tom. What if they've heard about the day Joe came back? I brought alcohol into school, I was _drunk_ in school, either one alone is grounds for dismissal… even then Sian Diamond said I wasn't fired because I'd been sleeping with Michael.' She gave a strangled laugh. 'It sounds so sordid out loud. If you didn't know about—about Joe, about the rape.'

Tom took her hands in his. 'That's common knowledge now too,' he reminded her, and she whitened further, twitching out of his hold and getting to her feet.

'That's it then,' she said blankly, going to lift the photo from her desk and staring at it as if she'd never seen it before. 'I'm done, aren't I? They're not just gonna demote me, they'll fire me altogether, if they had their doubts before—'

'Hey. Hey!' He went to her and put his hands on her shoulders. 'You're getting ahead of yourself, love. They can demote you but they can't fire you, not on the basis of hearsay. Like you said, if worst comes to worst I'm next in line. You're safe with me, Christine.'

Her eyes were anxious, searching his. 'Promise?'

She sounded almost childlike and his heart turned over as he realised her vulnerability anew. 'Promise,' he whispered, placing his forehead on hers. 'No matter what happens here, I'm not going anywhere.'

They stood in a close embrace until the bell went, Tom's jaw rigid with repressed fury and frustration where it rested against Christine's hair.

* * *

**Head's Office, 2.20pm**

* * *

Christine had been staring sightlessly at her computer for a full five minutes when she made her decision, closing the laptop shut with a decisive click. In less than ten minutes she was due with Year 7. Robert Bain was also due then, but she had no desire to sit waiting for him, her heart threatening to stop with every sound that reached her from Sonya's office beyond. She was a teacher first, last, and always, and her primary duty was to her pupils. When Mr Bain arrived he would find her where she belonged—in her classroom. She'd played the victim long enough; this time she would make him come to her. If he wanted to demote her—fire her, even—he would do so on her terms and not his.

She grabbed her teaching bag and swept past Sonya, ignoring the younger woman's calls, her heels clipping loudly as she made her way through the deserted corridors to her classroom. It was empty just now she knew; all to the good, it would give her time to set up a game of hangman for the children. They were always more likely to settle to a lesson after a few minutes of fun.

Sure enough, the Year 7s were delighted to find themselves confronted with a game, settling into their seats in record time. Her mouth twisting in something that was not quite a smile, she called them into quiet.

'You know how this works,' she said briskly, steadied by the comforting familiarity of this room, of the children sitting in intent rows before her. 'Anyone want to give me a vowel?'

A hand shot up, belonging to a child who reminded Christine of Hermione Granger from the _Harry Potter_ books. She nodded.

'E,' the girl said importantly.

Christine smiled properly. 'Try again.'

'But it's a vowel!'

'Yes, but it's not in my word. Anyone else?'

Another hand went up, more hesitantly this time. 'Y?'

'H'mmm,' Christine mused whilst her Hermione-clone cried, 'That's not a vowel, miss!'

Christine glanced at her. 'True. But it is in my word, so—' She turned and wrote it in the appropriate blank with a flourish. 'Next!'

A positive forest of hands went up that time and she laughed, feeling more herself than she'd done all day. Their enthusiasm made quick work of her game and before long nearly half the word was done: C, N, S, P, R, C, and Y.

Someone rapped sharply on the door and the children quietened. Christine pursed her lips and gave a brief nod, her eyebrows rising into her hair when her visitor proved to be Dynasty Barry instead of the half-expected Sonya.

'Dynasty,' she greeted as the Head Girl made her way to the desk. 'What can I do for you?'

'Sonya sent me,' the girl said, her voice lowering. 'Mr Bain's here.'

Christine bit into her lip. 'I see. Thanks, Dynasty. Tell Sonya I'm coming.'

'Don't you want me to stay with thes'uns?'

Christine looked at the young woman, her throat tightening as she remembered the last time Dynasty had made such an offer. Only a few months ago and yet… even then, even in the aftermath of rape, Dynasty Barry had retained an essential innocence and youthfulness. Now she looked groomed and weary and wary, older than her years.

_Like me_, Christine thought bitterly. She had tried to protect Dynasty from that and she had failed.

'Miss?' Dynasty prompted softly and the Head realised she was wool-gathering, the Year 7s watching her every move with avid curiosity.

She forced a laugh, ignoring the concern on Dynasty's expression. 'That's a great idea. We're playing hangman, if you want to take over.'

Dynasty's eyes went from the board to Christine and back. 'Conspiracy?' she mouthed, her gaze more knowing than it should be.

Christine gave a single brief nod, her lips pressing thin.

Turning so that the kids could not see, Dynasty reached across to squeeze Christine's arm. 'It don't matter what 'e says,' she whispered. 'Let 'im do what 'e wants. You're our Head, you always will be.'

Christine dipped her head, unbearably touched. 'I—thanks.' She looked at the clock; it was now nearly twenty to three and her visitor must be fuming. 'I'd better go.'

Dynasty squeezed her arm again and as Christine made her way to the door she heard her protégée say, 'Right then! Which one of you boffins can tell us what the answer is when it's starin' you right in yer wee faces?'

Christine was still smiling when she breezed into the office, past Sonya, past a startled Robert Bain—until she came face to face with the man seated behind her desk, looking as though he had every right to be there.

He was not Tom.

He was Simon Lowsley.

* * *

_So... the question is, Nasty Simon or Nice S9 Simon? Or Simon-with-a-twist? _

_TBC!_


	5. Episode 2-1

_Apologies for the delay! I've been ill so that's thrown things out of whack. However, here's the next bit. Thanks are due to: _**Guest, Jessiekat89, Paisley, gem, Wall With A Fez, **_and_** chantelucy**_. Regarding the Nice/Nasty Simon query, opinion's so divided there's no way I can keep everyone happy! Sue, though... *g*_

_Enjoy this next bit!_

* * *

**Mulgrew Household: Monday, 6.30am**

* * *

Like Sleeping Beauty, Christine was wakened by a kiss. Unlike that fairytale princess, she opened her eyes to find her 'prince' looking disturbed and her mouth—already dry—turned arid as she realised the probable cause.

She tried a smile. 'Morning.'

Tom did not return it. 'Morning.' He looked as if he wanted to say more and had thought the better of it; one finger went to trace the collar of her nightshirt.

She pressed her lips together to moisten them. 'It's OK. You can say it. What you're thinking.'

A beat.

'You've been drinking.' It was not an accusation, which was just as well: simply a calm statement of fact.

Christine swallowed. 'It—it was just one glass,' she murmured, rolling on her side so that she need not look at him. 'At three in the morning when I couldn't sleep.'

'Vodka?' A pause, then a soft 'Just one?'

She couldn't blame him for being sceptical, she supposed, but she stiffened all the same. 'Yeah.'

'Where's the bottle?'

'Under the kitchen sink.' She turned to face him, wanting complete honesty between them. 'I did Connor's trick, but the other way round.' Her lips twisted in a mockery of a smile. 'I put the vodka in an empty water bottle and removed the label. Shoved it in next to the bleach, who'd know?'

Tom's eyes searched her face, and she forced herself to endure it. Her body tensed as she waited the inevitable recriminations.

'Will you hate me if I throw it out?' he asked.

Tears came to her eyes and she shook her head wordlessly as her throat closed. After all, this was why she'd confessed, wasn't it?

They lay in silence, each examining the other, and eventually Christine managed, 'Do you hate me for drinking it?'

She was surprised when he barked out a half-laugh. 'God, no.' A sigh so deep that it lifted the strands of her hair from the pillow, the light catching tendrils of new silver amidst the bleached gold. 'Truth is, if I'd known about it I'd probably have taken some myself. Anything to stop the nightmares, eh?'

'You should have said,' she whispered. 'I knew you were having trouble, I kept waking and finding myself alone—'

'Me too,' he interrupted. 'I wanted to find you but didn't want to intrude—or fall over my own feet and wake the house,' he added wryly. 'Can't you imagine trying to explain _that_ to the kids?'

Christine snorted, a sound that was half laugh and half aborted sob. 'Connor'd never forgive us.'

'He'd get over it,' Tom said heartlessly. 'Hey,' he continued in a different tone, 'are you coming in today?'

Christine bit her lip. 'Have to, don't I? Can't have Dynasty barrelling in like she did the other day.'

Tom grinned. 'She's a brave girl.'

'A little _too_ brave sometimes!'

Tom pulled her to him as he flipped onto his back. 'Tell it again.'

She thumped him. 'I've already told you twice!'

'So I like hearing it. Tell it again.'

* * *

**Mulgrew Household: Friday, 12.30pm**

* * *

Christine was curled up in solitary splendour in the middle of her kingsized double bed, missing Tom and the kids acutely and wishing the clock would hurry up and strike three-fifteen. She was nursing a strong cup of tea, but it wasn't enough… and she was too afraid to move from the sanctuary her room had become. If she went down to the kitchen she'd be near the cupboard under the sink and what lurked there. A single drink at three in the morning to help her sleep was one thing; drinking alone mid-afternoon was something else. She would not go there, not again. Not when it had taken everything she had to resist the temptation the day of her deposition. She was strong. She'd manage—

'Christine!'

The call made her jump, spilling hot tea over her fingers. She swore under her breath and remained where she was, hoping her visitor would go away.

Fat chance. It was a visitor with a key.

'Christine! Where are yer? I know yer there, Tom said so.'

She groaned, recognising the voice. Resigned, she put her half-empty cup on the bedside table and cleared her rusty throat. 'In here.'

Dynasty Barry did not simply enter the room. She exploded into it, kicking the door shut behind her and glaring at her erstwhile headmistress, her hands going to her hips.

'What d'you think this is? You sittin' up 'ere like this when we need yer at school! What sorta example is that to set, eh?'

Thoroughly taken aback, Christine could only gape while Dynasty continued.

'Our exams is coming up, the first ones that really count, an' we need yer for English if nothin' else. That Lowsley's too busy playin' the Big Man in yer office to actually _teach_. Not that we'd have anythin' to do with 'im if he tried,' she added contemptuously. 'He's a broken reed, 'im, totally under 'is girlfriend's thumb.'

'_Girlfriend_?' Christine gasped.

Dynasty plumped down on the bed—as if for a girly chat, the older woman thought in stunned bemusement. 'Yep. Didn't the others tell yer? Turns out him an' Miss Not-Very-Bright-Spark are an item. Engaged, apparently.' Dynasty winked, looking more like herself than she had done since Barry's death. 'Just shows, don't it?'

'Oh,' Christine said blankly. '_Oh_. And Sue's Robert Bain's _daughter_—' She ran out of breath at the sheer inwardness of the whole episode. 'Tom was right, this was planned!'

'You bet it was. Bain kickin' you out, that was dead wrong. Everyone knows it, the school's ragin'. Half of 'em are refusin' to come in. They're sayin' that if the Head—that's _you_, in case you've forgotten—can't be bothered to come in, why should they? So y'see, it don't matter what them council nutjobs do. You're still our Head, no matter what it says on that sign.'

Christine winced. That was unexpected. 'It's been changed already?'

'Was changed the next day,' Dynasty informed her grimly. 'They must've had it all done, just waitin' for their chance, like.'

'The little—' She broke off the expletive that wanted to come, and the corner of Dynasty's mouth lifted.

'You don't 'ave to stop cos of me. I've 'eard worse. Said it, too.'

'Yes, but I'm supposed to know better,' Christine told her ruefully. She sighed. 'You think—no, I mustn't ask,' she murmured, mainly to herself. 'Not appropriate.'

'Bollocks. This is _me_.' Dynasty reached over to enclose Christine's wrist in her slim fingers. ''Cos, well, yer not just me teacher now, are yer?'

Now it was Christine's turn to quirk her lips. 'No?'

'No, more like …' Dynasty looked unwontedly shy. 'Well, _family_, innit? 'Cos I can't say mates, you're still me teacher, but it's like you've become an auntie or sommat.' She turned from shy to wistful. 'I've never 'ad an auntie. Mum's family are in London and Dad's—_pffft_.'

'Dynasty—'

'It's OK,' the girl interrupted, her blue eyes very deep. 'I know yer can't say it.' She grinned, a hint of the old mischievous Dynasty returning. 'You can pay us back by comin' to school next week. Please?'

Christine sighed, feeling as if she'd been turned upside down and thoroughly shaken about. She closed her eyes and thought about it… and slowly it dawned on her that on some level she _wanted_ to return to school. She could return to her classroom, she realised, she'd be free from the anxieties and restraints of the Headship with only her department accounts to worry about… Her spirits began to rise.

She shuffled over to sit by Dynasty, nudging her on the shoulder.

'So you want me back, h'mmm?'

Dynasty gave a decisive nod.

'Nagging you about essays and coursework and exams?'

'Well…'

Christine laughed out loud. It sounded foreign even to her own ears, but it felt good. 'God, your face. Not so sure now, are you?'

'I'm sure.' The bright look faded from the girl's expression. 'Can't do it without yer, miss, an' Kace an' me mam, they'd be happier with you in school too.'

'OK.' She pushed herself to her feet, grimacing as she caught sight of her reflection in the long mirror opposite: in old sweats, her hair in a lopsided short pony-tail, devoid of makeup… she looked anything but professional. Thank God it was Dynasty, who'd seen it all before by virtue of her extended stay at the Mulgrews' in the run-up to the trial. 'So what are you missing now?'

Dynasty was looking more sheepish by the second. 'History.'

'Ah. Miss McFall's not going to like that.'

The girl's chin came up. 'She won't care when she knows.'

Christine sent her an amused glance. 'Either that means you're gonna tell her, _or_ this is your way of asking for a note.'

Dynasty smirked. '_Or_… she already knows. Connor and Imogen know where I am.'

Christine's eyebrows went up. 'And they didn't join you?'

'Too easy for you to ignore,' Dynasty said simply. ''Cos they're your kids, right? We thought it'd be better comin' from me.'

'Conspiracy, fiddlesticks,' Christine muttered, remembering the word she'd given the Year 7s at the beginning of the week. She hadn't expected it to acquire such meaning. 'Well… you'd better go,' she said in her normal tone, placing a firm hand on Dynasty's shoulder and guiding her down the stairs and towards the door. 'Audrey'll only give you so much rope.'

Dynasty turned to look at her. 'But you'll be back on Monday?' she pleaded.

Christine nodded, touched when the girl's face lit up.

'Seriously? You promise?'

'I promise. Now _go_—before you get me into more trouble!'

A quick hug, and Dynasty was off.

Christine watched her go until a rush of emotion made her call, 'Dyn!'

The younger woman turned.

'For what it's worth… I think of you as family too.'

Dynasty's beam was visible ten metres away. 'Great… Auntie Chris!'

Christine no longer tried to hide her smile as she gestured firmly in the direction of the school. 'Get going, young lady. Now!'

Her smile lingered as she closed the door and found herself able for the first time that week to think about the future.

* * *

**Waterloo Road Car Park: Monday, 8.15am**

* * *

'Have you remembered the English PGCE student is starting today?'

'Yup,' Tom answered as they drove along the Greenock coast. 'She's timetabled and all.'

'What about the new prefect?'

He glanced at Christine out of the corner of his eye. She had extracted her diary from her teaching bag and was flipping through it.

'Already sorted,' he answered. 'Simon's picked Archie Wong.'

'Archie? But he's only Year 11!'

'That's why,' Tom explained. 'The plan is that Year 12 drop their prefectships in September to allow them to concentrate on their exams, and if Archie's already had some experience he'll allow next year's lot to hit the ground running. Archie's a good kid, he won't take advantage of it.' There was a long silence and Tom glanced towards Christine, anxious lest she thought him disloyal. 'Chris—'

She gave him a bright smile that seemed hollow. 'It's OK. That—that all sounds very sensible.'

She volunteered nothing more and Tom sighed as he turned the car and prepared to chug up the hill towards the school—only to find himself forced to stop. 'What the—'

Beside him, he heard Christine make a strange sound. A glance in the rearview mirror showed Connor and Imogen exchanging a look that could only be described as smug, and Tom's eyes narrowed.

Christine was literally gawping as she took in the sight of the kids blocking the school gates, armed with a banner that said 'Welcome back, Mrs M'. 'But—but—'

'It was Dynasty's idea,' Imogen offered, a smile stretching from ear to ear. 'She wanted you to see that we need you, Christine, Head or not.'

Christine covered her eyes with one hand. 'Call her off.'

'What?' Imogen sounded puzzled—puzzled and hurt, Tom thought. 'Why? She was just trying—'

'Yes, Imogen, I know!' Christine snapped, turning to face her daughter-in-law. 'I know,' she repeated more gently, 'but … look, love, we know Bain has got it in for me, yeah?' A flicker of the eyes betrayed Imogen's agreement. 'His daughter's a teacher and he's made her boyfriend the new Head. I'm… an inconvenience. D'you really think this is going to help me settle back in as a teacher? Help me keep my job?'

Tom reached over to squeeze the girl's shoulder as her face fell. 'She's right. Go on, both of you. Explain to Dynasty.' He gave her a half-wink. 'We made you prefects, this is why. Go and earn your keep.'

Connor was already out of the car, Tom saw, and by the time he realised they'd made a tactical error it was too late: the car was surrounded by excited kids, all yelling at once.

'Shit,' he muttered. 'Chris, get out. It's you they want, show yourself and get 'em to pull back.'

She seemed frozen in her seat and he lost patience. This could turn nasty very easily and she was the only one who could stop it. Neither the school nor Christine herself would benefit if the police were called in for a second time in as many months.

'Christine! They still think of you as their Head, for God's sake act like it!'

Her eyes skittered towards him. 'Yeah, yeah, 'course.' She stumbled out of the car and Tom winced at the wall of sound that greeted her. Then he spotted Simon Lowsley pushing his way through the crowds and groaned; every protective instinct he had was telling him to get out of the car and stand shoulder to shoulder with his lover, but something held him back. He undid his seatbelt and held the door slightly open; if the other man tried to pull anything he'd—

'Mrs Mulgrew,' Simon greeted, his stance rather less cocky than usual.

The kids went from rowdy to quiet between one heartbeat and the next.

Christine's chin came up and her shoulders went back. 'Mr Lowsley,' she responded, the syllables clipping harshly.

Simon inched closer and Tom tensed. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Connor poised, ready to pounce.

It wasn't necessary. Simon was holding out his hand. Tom felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck as the entire school—or at least the portion of it surrounding his car—held its breath.

The line of Christine's shoulders remained absolutely rigid.

'I don't think we're quite ready for that, do you?' she asked coolly, and someone gave a muted cheer. She was down on them in a flash. 'Who was that? Courtenay? What a surprise. Cooler for you, young lady. I'll be with you shortly. And the rest of you, what do you think you're doing, blocking the road like this? You could have caused an accident!'

Several of kids at the edges of the crowd were already starting to melt away, and Tom judged it was time to make an appearance. 'We do appreciate the loyalty you've shown,' he said as he went to stand next to Christine, 'but there's a time and a place. Connor, open the gates, round up the other prefects and get everyone to their form rooms.'

'I'll give you a hand,' Simon offered awkwardly. Tom caught Connor's startled glance in response, but for once the boy had the sense not to protest.

It was not long before Christine and Tom found themselves almost alone, eyeing each other over the top of Tom's car, the driver's side still open. He slipped into his seat and leaned across when she did not move.

'Chris? Coming or going?'

She brushed her hair behind her ears and met his gaze. 'I'm going to my classroom, I'm not up to running the gauntlet in the staffroom just yet.'

He nodded. 'Sure, see you later.'

Her smile was strained. 'Sure. Later.'

He rested his arms on the top of the steering wheel as he watched her go, her long coat blowing in the wind as she chivvied the few remaining stragglers into school. He'd no idea of what she was thinking or feeling just now; when she so chose Christine could be unsettlingly opaque. He'd have to catch up with her later, to see how she was doing—

He started the car and moved it to his favoured spot in the car park, sighing as he locked up and realised that Simon Lowsley was lingering by the front door, a stiff-backed Sonya at his side. That meant they were waiting for him.

'Problem?' he called as he reached them.

Simon was looking a tad flustered whilst Sonya's lips were thin.

Tom glanced at secretary. 'Sonya?'

'The student's come,' she said. 'She's in me office, waitin' on you.'

Tom's eyebrows rocketed. 'Me? Why me? Christine's Head of English.'

Simon shrugged. 'She insisted on seeing you. Says she knows you.'

Sonya sniffed. 'She's right full of 'erself, that one.'

'Be nice,' Tom chided. 'She's just learning, you've got to cut her some slack. What's her name?'

Sonya squinted at the paper she held. 'Aspinall. Doesn't give 'er first name, just M.'

His eyebrows came together. 'M. Aspinall? I don't know any—_Bloody hell!_' He brushed past them and sprinted down the corridor towards the office, his heart pounding hard against his ribs. It couldn't be, could it? She'd have told him, or Chlo would.

And _Aspinall_? He'd thought that was long over. Why had she—?

He pushed into the office and stopped dead. As he'd expected, his adopted daughter turned to face him with a wide beam.

'Surprise!'

He blinked, still stunned. 'Mika?' His gaze went to the child in her arms. 'Mika and a _baby_?!'

* * *

_I've wanted to do this for a while, but had trouble deciding which old-WR character to use. I considered Davina, but TBH I can't stand her and didn't think I could be fair writing her. I have to admit Mika isn't a huge favourite either, but there's things I can do with her. So... what do you think? Any ideas for this complication? I will say one thing: it ain't gonna be happy families..._


	6. Episode 2-2

_Glad people are still enjoying this, especially the four who reviewed:_

_**Paisley:**__ :) Glad you liked it. _

_**Daydreams-About-Fallen-Stars: **__LOL. The buba is a deliberate plot device... _

_**loveistheprotection: **__*g* Thought you'd like that. By the same token, you should enjoy this next bit. And I'm waiting for more of yours!_

_**Jessiekat89:**__ Brett, yeah. Not sure yet what (if any) part he'll play in this. And yup, conflicting loyalties is gonna be a big part of this fic. The last one was more action-driven, this is more political in a sense. _

_Also: a teeny plug. For those of you who like Christine, I've just posted a Christine/George (I'm still in shock myself) canon-compliant one-shot, _**If All Else Fails.**_ Please do have a look and let me know what you think!_

* * *

**Mrs Mulgrew's room, 8.50am**

* * *

Christine dumped her teaching bag behind her desk and sank into the chair, her fingers already pressing into her forehead. She'd made a detour to the cooler to send Courtenay off to her form-room together with a reminder that Mr Lowsley was Head now and it would be wise not to forget it. The cheeky grin the Year 10 girl had flashed as she departed had not done much to ease Christine's worries; as she'd said to Imogen, she was acutely aware of the precariousness of her position. If Robert Bain had gone to these extremes to install his daughter's boyfriend as Head of Waterloo Road, her continued presence would not be long tolerated if she became a focal point for pupils disaffected by the new regime. Even without the events of the term before her past provided more than enough ammunition to have her permanently debarred from teaching … if Bain was sufficiently motivated to dig for it. She'd do all she could to avoid giving him that motivation, and she'd counsel the kids to do likewise.

A knock on her door roused her from her thoughts and she called a distracted 'Come in' as she pulled up her bag, half-expecting Audrey or Sonya.

'Mrs Mulgrew?' Tom's voice said, and she glanced up from extracting her laptop, startled by the formality.

He was not alone. By his side stood a tall young woman neatly garbed in a suit with a pair of eclectic earrings that peeped out from beneath the edges of an asymmetrical bob, and Christine bounded to her feet as she realised who the young woman must be.

'You must be my new student,' she greeted as she circled her desk, her hand outstretched.

'Yeah, I'm Mika,' the young woman responded, taking Christine's hand and shaking it—but her eyes kept straying to Tom, and Christine experienced a pang; young, pretty, unburdened…

Tom looked uncomfortable. 'Chris, she's not just your new student. Um, this is Mika. My adopted daughter Mika.'

Christine's eyebrows shot up as relief mingled uneasily with exasperation. 'Well, thanks for the warning!'

'He didn't know,' Mika put in, bright blue eyes going from Christine to Tom and back again. 'I wanted to give him a surprise.'

'Heart attack, more like,' Tom grumbled.

Mika dug him in the ribs with an elbow. 'Stop pretending to be an old codger, I can see straight through you.'

Christine was feeling increasingly awkward. How was this supposed to work? She was Tom's lover and Mika was his adopted daughter… They'd planned to mentor this PGCE student between them, but that couldn't happen now. Not with such a clear conflict of interest. She leaned back against her desk and studied the pair in front of her.

'A warning would've been nice, Mika. You need a mentor who isn't connected to you in any way and—'

'But that's you, isn't it?' Mika interrupted. 'I know Tom can't do it, I know all about teacher politics. My mum was a teacher too.'

'I know,' Christine said, trying for a smile. 'But it's not that easy… Tom?' Her voice was not entirely steady as she said his name. She'd heard reams about Mika and Chlo and Donte and the children, but it seemed the same was not true in reverse. Mika seemed to genuinely not know who she was.

'Mika's been awol,' Tom said quickly (too quickly?). 'Even Chlo said she hadn't heard from her in a bit. Been busy, haven't you?' He grinned at the younger woman, all the time moving to stand by Christine. When he reached for Christine's hand, Mika's eyes nearly popped out of her head.

'Oh my God, I'm such an idiot. He called you Chris… you're _that_ Chris?'

'Whatever 'that' means,' Christine assented, sending Tom a swift look. 'And it's Christine.'

'Yeah, I'm privileged,' Tom added, grinning widely as he gave her a half-hug. 'I'm the only one she lets call her Chris. Even the kids don't get away with it often.'

'Kids?' Mika queried.

'My son and daughter-in-law,' Christine explained, awkwardness washing over her anew. 'They're in Year 12, you'll meet them next week when the exams are over.'

Tom pulled away.

'Next week? Why not tonight? No time like the present. What d'you say, Mika? Come for dinner, yeah? I'll even do that spag bog you used to like—assuming you're eating normal food—'

'Make it a vegetarian spag bol and you've got a deal,' Mika agreed while Tom groaned in disgust and Christine made welcoming noises and smiled until her cheeks hurt. If Tom started messing around in the kitchen Connor would end up helping, he always did, and then what would become of his revision. The boy always seemed to be looking for an excuse to avoid it these days. If it wasn't for Imogen…

A bell went and she started, aware that time was marching and in half an hour her room would be invaded by Year 7s expecting their first taste of 'big school' exams. Tom realised it too; she knew from the way his posture changed.

'Mika, I've got to go,' he said. 'My form'll be waiting and they've got mocks so there'll be panic attacks to soothe… Sound familiar?'

The young woman grinned. 'Yup. What will I do in the meantime?'

'That's up to Christine, love. I'll see you later!' He gave Mika a quick kiss on the cheek and departed with only a nod for Christine, and she shivered, pulling her cardigan tighter around her. She'd forgotten how chilly her classroom could be without a jacket.

'Well.' Another attempt at a smile. 'Let's sit down, shall we? This isn't your first placement, is it?'

'First full time placement,' Mika said. 'The last one was only three days a week.'

'I see.' Christine pulled up her bag once more and extracted a lever arch that held her current department work and pulled out a copy of the QTS standards, flipping through it quickly. She gave a soundless whistle at the endless lists that needed to be checked. 'Whew. Lots to do, I'm glad I'm not in your shoes!'

_It was hell enough as it was_, flashed through her mind and she blanked it. Mika, eager and enthusiastic, was everything she herself had not been. She'd already been walking wounded by the time her course started and she'd thrown herself into it with the single-minded intensity of a woman who had nothing else. Even (especially) her pregnancy had come second place.

'Here's my folders from last term,' Mika said, pushing across two folders, one red, one blue, across the desk. 'Do you need to look through them—?'

'Thanks.' Christine accepted them and flipped one open, her stomach muscles clenching as she was confronted with the blurb she remembered from her own trainee days. Her alcoholism had debarred her from seniority all these years, and thus she'd never had a student before; she'd never had to directly confront the worst year of her life.

She slammed the folder shut, cardboard cracking against paper and wood.

Mika's eyes widened and once again Christine found herself dredging for a smile. 'I'll look through them later. For now, Year 7 will be bursting in at any moment and they'll be expecting exam conditions. Shall we get things ready for them?'

Mika smiled widely. 'Sure. You're the boss!'

Christine dipped her head to hide her expression and began to pull desks into formation.

_Not anymore. _

* * *

**Mr Clarkson's room, 9.20am**

* * *

'Where d'you think he is?' Dynasty hissed in Rhiannon's ear. ''E's ten minutes late an' our exams is supposed to start at 'alf past.'

Rhiannon rolled her eyes. 'Yeah, an' he's Deputy Head an' all, innit? 'E's probably still holed up with Mr Lousy.'

Dynasty allowed herself a grin. 'That's a good 'un. Where'd d'you get it?'

Rhiannon was smirking complacently as she shoved her exam timetable back into her bag. 'I 'eard Mr Windsor callin' 'im that to Sonya. Somehow I don't think Lousy's makin' 'imself too popular with t'teachers, no matter what they say.'

Dynasty was no longer listening, her gaze going anxiously to the door. Was Mr Clarkson angry with her for organising the demonstration that morning? Worse, was Christine? Her fingers strayed to her badge, caressing the sharp metallic edge. Maybe they'd take the Head Girlship away from her, that Mr Lowsley was dying to do so, she was sure of it. And there were no prizes for who he'd choose in her stead. Imogen might be fooled, but Dynasty wasn't; like any Barry, she could be stealthy when she chose to be and she'd inadvertently caught sight of Louisa coming into school in Mr Lowsley's car, with Miss Spark smirking in the front seat.

She began to chew on her lip. If only she could talk to Imogen, but the other girl had seemed glued to Louisa's hip all week. Dynasty knew that was no-one's fault but her own; Imogen had tried to approach her, but the Head Girl had found herself unable to respond. Perhaps it was grief and shock, perhaps it was something simpler: an irrational fear and jealousy that surged through her every time she saw Imogen and Louisa together, conversing with hands instead of voices.

'It'll never last,' Rhiannon said, breaking into her thoughts, and Dynasty started.

'What d'you mean?'

'Don't be a numpty. You're worried about Imogen and that Lulu, aren't yer?'

'She's me best mate,' Dynasty said wistfully. 'No offence.'

Rhiannon grinned. 'None taken. Cheer up, 'ere's Mr Clarkson.'

Their form teacher did not seem entirely himself as he walked down the length of the classroom to this desk, a frown on his face, and Dynasty's mouth went dry. He must be furious!

'Right you lot,' Mr Clarkson said as he perched on one corner of his desk. 'Mocks. These are important, don't mess them up. Most of you have A1 in June and these'll help us work out where you need support and where you can look after yourselves. If you need help, shout.'

'A brain transplant'd be more useful,' Dynasty heard Connor grouse from behind her and she twisted to glance at him, meaning to give him a reassuring smile—but she found herself confronted with Kevin's pleading eyes instead and returned to her proper position, her shoulders stiffening.

He'd moved back to Grantly House several days before, and Kacey still hadn't forgiven her for it. Her mum wasn't much better, always dropping not-so-subtle hints that she should get over it and ask him back—but how could she? He wasn't Barry, but it seemed he was shoving himself into all the spaces that had belonged to her brother, his presence aggravating instead of soothing the unhealed wound.

'Dynasty, you can sort that, can't you?' Mr Clarkson said, and she jumped, having completely zoned out.

'Y—yeah, sir. Sure. Er—'

'I don't think she's been listening, sir,' came Louisa's sweetly malicious tones.

Dynasty's mouth reacted before her brain had time to catch up. 'You shut up, what do you know, eh? Think yer a mindreader, do yer?'

Louisa smiled. 'Thought not.'

Dynasty glared at Imogen, hoping to shame her into protest, but her best friend (make that former best friend, she thought darkly) only lifted her shoulders in a helpless gesture. Suddenly unable to see clearly, Dynasty stared fixedly at the exam timetable in front of her.

Rhiannon nudged her. 'Dyn, 'e's waitin' on yer.'

'What?' She glanced up to find that Mr Clarkson was indeed watching her expectantly. 'I'm sorry, sir, what d'you want us to do? I, I wasn't listenin'.'

'So I gathered, Miss Barry.' Dynasty dropped her gaze once more, embarrassed. 'The council have cut our budget again and if we want to keep things like the breakfast club going, we need to make up the shortfall. Mr Lowsley wants the prefects to organise a fundraiser for half term. Can do?'

'A—a fundraiser?' Surely she'd heard wrong.

'Yeah, it could be anything. Mrs Budgen was talking this morning about having some sort of bake-off, that could be fun. Whatever, it's up to you.'

'Sir, maybe this isn't the right time,' she heard Kevin say from behind her, his voice seeming to come from far away. 'It's not a month yet.'

Dynasty had started to shake, her mind playing back the events of several weeks before in an endless loop: Mrs Mulgrew offering her the stage, Dynasty herself starting her little speech, so confident and happy that all was going well, Steve-O, the gun, the shot, and Barry… She'd caught a glimpse of sightless eyes and fountains of blood before Kevin hustled her away…

'Dynasty?' Mr Clarkson prompted. 'Can you do this? You don't have to, I realise what we're asking, Imogen or Kevin or one of the others can take the lead on this one—'

'Whatever, sir.' She stumbled to her feet, aware that everyone was looking at her, but she couldn't see them properly. Her vision had gone blocky, the light all wrong.

'Dynasty?' That was Imogen, sounding alarmed. 'Are you OK?'

'Dyn?' Kevin, his hand on her arm.

She shook him off. 'I g-gotta g-go,' she stammered. She felt detached from herself as she left the classroom, unheeding of the calls coming after her. On autopilot she turned right at the bottom of the corridor and ascended the stairs, coming to a trembling stop outside Mrs Mulgrew's classroom door.

She stared at it, aware that there was something she should do instead of bursting in—especially when Christine seemed to have a visitor—but it didn't seem to matter. Nothing mattered. Still in a fog, she leaned on the door and found she could go no further, her knees turning to jelly beneath her.

'Dynasty?'

Christine's voice was brisk and businesslike, but it was familiar. Over the past three months that voice had come to represent safety and security, a constant anchor in storm.

Dynasty tried to draw a breath. 'I—I can't do this.'

'Come on.' Christine was beside her, guiding her towards the nearest seat. 'Sit. Mika, could you run and get a hot tea from the staffroom? Plenty of sugar.' A door slammed, less than a metre away, but Dynasty did not even flinch. 'Dyn?' Hands on her face. 'Dyn, look at me. Come on, look at me.'

Dynasty obeyed, her gaze finding anxious hazel eyes.

'Breathe. That's it. Mika—Mrs Aspinall—has gone to get you a tea. What's happened?'

'I—I c-can't do it,' Dynasty stuttered again. 'Any of it, miss. I can't be 'Ead Girl, I can't do me exams, I'm crap at everythin', everyone 'ates me, even Imogen, and Kev—' Her voice broke and Christine made a crooning sound as she pulled Dynasty close and rocked her.

'It's called grief, love. This is how it works—'

'I want it to stop. I wanna be normal again, I wanna be _me_—'

'And you will. You need to give it time.'

Dynasty shuddered. 'Time? How much time?'

Christine was still rocking her, her chin warm against the top of Dynasty's head. 'I don't know. It'll take as long as it takes.'

Dynasty clutched at the soft wool of the older woman's cardigan. 'I'm glad you're 'ere.'

'I'm always here. If not at school, then at home. It's like you said, family, eh?'

Dynasty blinked up at her. 'You're not mad at me?'

'About what?'

'This mornin'? Don't be mad, please don't be mad—' Her grasp on the cardigan tightened until the old wool yielded, forming a hole.

'Hey, calm down. I'm not mad, it was a lovely thing to think of.'

'But stupid,' Dynasty said dully. 'See, miss? I'm thick now, amn't I?'

'_Not_ stupid,' Christine said in the inflexible tone that Dynasty knew. 'Just shellshocked. Last term was a rough ride with one hell of a finish. You're still adjusting. Now. Did Mr Clarkson get you and Kacey extra time for your exams?'

Dynasty was sniffling too hard for speech, but she nodded.

'You don't need to take them if you don't want to,' Christine was saying softly. 'There's no reason you and Kacey can't postpone your exams for now, have an extra year at school if that's what it comes to.'

'Could I?' The thought was like a weight off Dynasty's shoulders. 'You're not 'avin' us on?'

'Well, we'd have to talk to Mr Clarkson and—and Mr Lowsley. The exam board already know about your case, theoretically there shouldn't be a problem.'

Dynasty sat back, accepting the hanky her teacher pressed into her hand. 'But I'd still be able to come into school, like?'

'You bet! This isn't a passport to a year of leisure, young lady!'

Dynasty managed a watery grin and blew her nose hard, allowing herself to lean against Christine's shoulder and blinking dazedly at the soundproofing tiles on the ceiling. As a result she felt Christine stiffen before she heard the cause of the older woman's tension: the sounds of riot coming from a nearby classroom.

She pulled back. 'What's that?'

Christine was already on her feet, her mouth set in a grim line. Dynasty rose too, childishly wanting to stay close. 'It's coming from the science lab—' Mrs Mulgrew left the room as she spoke, Dynasty hard on her heels, curiosity overcoming all else for the moment.

'D'you think they've been left alone?'

Christine seemed to have forgotten she was merely a pupil.

'God knows. It's either that or they've got an incompetent teacher—' They'd reached the lab by this time and Dynasty hovered at Christine's shoulder as the older woman opened the door and silence fell like a stone. The last thing Dynasty saw before Christine ordered her away was Miss Spark's face, bright red with hatred and humiliation.

* * *

_Comments=a very happy writing bunny who generates more... :)_


	7. Episode 23

_Sorry about the delay, folks! This part has taken longer than usual, partly because the general plot is less easy to quickly define than was the case with the first story. However, I think we're getting there!_

_Fabulous reviews, let's see… _

_**Niamh**__: Thanks and here you go!_

_**Paisley**__: LOL! I hope this is dramatic enough for you! Although not in the same way as last time, this is more character driven in a sense so may be fewer plot big-bangs. Then again… have to wait and see!_

_**Virgo girl 14:**__ Thanks! Good to know, I was worrying whether the change of pace here might mean that people would find it less interesting. _

_**Jessiekat89**__: More Simon and Sue coming straight up (but not together in the same scene, yet…)._

_**Loveistheprotection**__: I'm still annoyed by the fact that they didn't explore the possibility of a closer bond between Christine and Dynasty on the show. It's not as if WR hasn't done teacher-pupil 'friendships' before; look at Nikki and Kacey, Tom and Kacey, Rachel and Bolton… I can fix that in fanfic and it's nice to see you doing the same thing! :)_

_**Alice**__: Er…. I might have made both Mika and Sue a little bit evil here? However, it won't stay that way. More Sue-centric stuff coming up next 'episode' which should make her more sympathetic… because it's too easy to turn her into a cartoon baddie, almost. Good point about the tranquilisers, I might have to work that in. _

* * *

**Staff Room, 10.45am**

* * *

'And who's a handsome young man then, eh?' Sue Spark cooed to the staffroom's youngest resident as Audrey looked on in amusement over the top of her glasses, her needles clicking their usual accompaniment. 'It's Tommy! Yay! Just like your gramps, isn't that right?'

Audrey frowned as the younger woman swung towards her, still babbling nonsense, and used a knitting needle to point at the child. 'I think you've got the wrong end of the stick, Sue. Tom is no blood relation to young Master Aspinall there.'

Sue's brows came together. 'But I thought—'

'You jumped to conclusions like always,' Sonya spat from her usual spot next to Audrey, showering crumbs liberally as she did so. Since Christine's deposition the secretary had refused to take any of her breaks at her desk.

Sue ignored her with a toss of her red head. 'Adopted grandchild then, if you must be pedantic.'

Audrey saw Sonya's puzzled look at the unfamiliar word out of the corner of her eye and 'accidentally' kicked the younger woman's ankle in warning. No point in giving Sue more ammunition, she thought. Yet if Sue noticed she gave no sign, swinging back towards the door and talking in the overly-sweet tones that always set Audrey's teeth on edge.

'And what about our dear leader as-was? Has she met the young man? Because let's see, if Tom's Tommy's adopted grandpa that makes Christine his sort-of grandmother, doesn't it?'

'I wouldn't have put it quite that way,' Maggie put in from Audrey's other side, and the history teacher gave a silent nod of approval, receiving a quick smirk-turned-smile in response. After a rocky start as joint housemistresses she and Maggie had become firm friends and allies.

Sue threw them a coquettish look over her shoulder. 'Wouldn't you? Well, I would. Families come in all shapes and sizes these days and—Christine! At last!'

Audrey let her knitting drop and jumped to her feet, calling 'Sue—' but it was too late. Sue had already shoved baby Tommy into the former Head's arms with, 'Here, take your grandson.'

Christine's eyes went wide.

'My _what_?' she gasped, and Audrey guessed that only pure instinct prevented her from dropping the baby. Unfortunately, Tommy did not approve of being clutched at and let out an indignant squall as his former minder made good her escape while Christine called, 'Sue! Sue, wait, I'm talking to you!'

'Evil little cat,' Sonya said, coming to take Tommy from a bewildered Christine. 'Come to your Auntie Sonya, pet. Want your tea, boss? Audrey—'

'I'm on it,' Audrey said swiftly, suiting the action to the word. 'Christine, take a seat and we'll explain. It's not like it sounds.'

Christine seemed to have recovered from her earlier shock, one corner of her mouth twitching as she sat in her old place, her back to the bookshelves. 'I'm glad to hear it, I must say. Otherwise my son and daughter-in-law would have some serious explaining to do!'

'Don't be daft, it ain't them at all,' Sonya told her, bouncing Tommy on her knee as Audrey returned with the drinks. ''Ere's your tea. Got your Kitkat? You can eat up while we tell yer.'

'I'm sure Christine's quite capable of feeding herself, Sonya,' Maggie put in, and Christine rolled her eyes and flourished the chocolate bar Audrey had produced.

'You'd think so, wouldn't you? OK, I'm listening.'

Audrey exchanged a glance with Maggie, but once again it was Sonya who got there first.

''E's Mika Aspinall's. Which makes 'im Tom's sort-of grandson which makes you—'

'His sort-of step-step-grandmother if you've got that kind of twisted mind,' Christine finished. 'OK, I understand that. But—what's he doing here? Why isn't he in some sort of childcare? A school's no place for a kid that young!'

They'd been so intent in their conversation they'd failed to notice Sue's return—and her companion.

'I'm sorry my son's such an inconvenience,' Mika snapped as she extracted her baby from Sonya's grasp. 'In my day Waterloo Road made provision for _everyone_ attached to the school, even the babies. I hadn't realised how all the Heads since had crushed the caring out of the place!'

Christine jumped to the school's defence, her words making it clear she'd temporarily forgotten the new status quo.

'I'm sorry, Mika, but things change. We just don't have the funds or facilities for that kind of thing these days, and that being so, the school really is no place for your son. I can't have my staff—'

'_Your_ staff?' Mika interrupted. 'They're not your staff anymore, remember?'

Audrey felt sick on her friend's behalf when she saw how Christine's colour faded and her eyes closed, her lips compressing as though from pain.

'You see what I mean,' Sue said, folding her arms under her green chintz-clad bust and turning towards Mika. 'This is what she's like. Just as well we've got a proper Head now, isn't it?'

'Oi!' Sonya protested. 'An' what d'you know about it, eh?' Her stance was belligerent while Sue's eyes glittered. It wouldn't take much to trigger an actual catfight between them, the history teacher thought anxiously.

Nor was Audrey the only one to notice.

'Sonya!' Christine spoke with flat authority and Sonya simmered down.

'Oh, look at the little lap dog,' Sue sneered. 'Christine says jump and Sonya says, how high? I'll be having words with my dad about that, I think. Get Simon a _proper_ secretary—'

'Sue—' Maggie tried while Christine ordered, 'Leave Sonya alone.'

With the extra inches afforded by her heels, the former Head had a couple of inches over the young Science teacher as she rose to face her. 'Please, Sue. I'm sorry about happened earlier, that was just … bad luck. It happens to us all. And if you have issues with me… you have issues with me, but don't—_don't_—take them out on anyone else.'

'Or… _what_, Mrs Mulgrew?' Sue inquired with faux politeness.

Christine did not respond verbally, but Audrey noted how her eyes turned hard and she winced internally, half-expecting a bitter tirade.

But none came. Christine turned instead to Mika.

'Mika, I can't apologise for this enough. Your son, he's a lovely little boy and I'm really, _really_ looking forward to getting to know him, but… not in school. It's not safe for him, it's not safe for us; if—God forbid—anything should happen, we're not insured. _Please_ take him away.'

'Fine.' Mika shifted her baby on her hip. 'Since he's such a problem I'll find somewhere to put him. As to getting to know him, you can forget it. He's having nothing to do with you, which means… dinner's _off_. Permanently!'

'Where are you going?' Christine called after her as she stormed through the suddenly silent staffroom to the door. 'Mika, I didn't mean it like that!'

The young woman paused on the threshold. 'Too little, too late. For the record, I'm glad you're not Head anymore. Also for the record, I'm going to find Tom. Looks like he needs putting straight on a few things, eh?!' The door closed behind her with a resounding slam.

Christine sank down again, even whiter than before, and while Sonya spluttered indignation and Maggie topped up the teas, Audrey gave her friend's hand a gentle squeeze.

It wasn't enough, but it was all she could do.

* * *

**Crush Hall, 11.35am**

* * *

Imogen was only half-listening to Louisa as the other girl chattered about her last school and the preparations for exams there, glancing at her only enough to get the gist of it. She was reasonably confident about her own exams; she had an excellent memory and was one of those people who actively enjoyed the stimulation of having to think on her feet, as it were. It was only the run-up she struggled with, when her imagination went into overdrive and she saw herself faced with an impossible paper that seemed to cover only the topics she _hadn't_ studied…

She twisted the key in her locker and turned, armed only with the regulation clear pencil case. She'd glanced quickly at her phone before shoving it in the locker and she knew there was a while to go; Year 12 could not use the hall until Year 11 had vacated it. Already her pulse was accelerating at the thought, but she knew from experience the panic would go as soon as she was seated at her desk.

_Which is more than you can say for Connor_, she thought as her gaze lit upon her husband. He and Kevin were lolling on the bench that stood in the centre of crush hall… or rather, Kevin was lolling and Connor was hunched over a textbook, one hand feverishly flipping through the pages while the other pulled at his hair.

'Imogen!' Louisa said, touching her arm. 'Did you hear what I said?'

Imogen's gaze flickered back to her momentarily. 'Sorry, no. Look, Lulu, I need to go.' She gestured towards Connor and Louisa's face fell.

'Oh you can't! Please don't leave me alone, I'm always so terrified before exams, you can't think!'

'Sorry,' Imogen said again and tried to brush past, her whole being focused on going to Connor and doing what she could to lift the anxiety that hovered over him like a storm-cloud.

Louisa's fingers dug into her arm. 'Imogen!'

Suddenly irritated by her clinginess, Imogen threw her off. 'Lulu, you're my mate but Connor's my husband. He comes first!'

'He'll be fine, he's got Kevin and Dynasty and everyone else!' Louisa's blue eyes turned shiny, and Imogen was horrified to realise that the other girl looked as if she was about to cry, but Imogen couldn't escape the nagging suspicion that she was being manipulated.

_Dynasty would never have done this, she'd've understood_. _She'd've done the same if it was Kevin…Where is she, anyway?_

She hadn't realised she'd spoken the last thought aloud until she saw how Louisa's eyes had narrowed.

'I'm telling you that I'm absolutely and utterly _phobic_ of exams and you're thinking about someone _else_?' She sounded nearly hysterical. 'I thought we were friends!'

Imogen couldn't stand it a moment longer. 'We are. Look, we'll have to do this later. If it's really a problem you need to speak to Mr Clarkson or Miss McFall—' She threw the last words over her shoulder and in all honesty did not care whether Louisa had heard them or not as she went to crouch next to Connor.

'Hey.' He didn't lift his head and she reached out, swiping his book from under his nose as he made a futile grab for it.

'Give us it back!'

'Nope.' Imogen clutched it to her chest, grinning over the top of it. 'Honestly, what are you like? It's not like it'd do you any good at this point.' Still holding the textbook, she slipped into the space Kevin had obligingly made for her and bumped her shoulder against her husband's. 'Don't look so worried, it's just a mock, you'll be fine.'

'I won't, my brain doesn't work that way, it's just mush.'

'You got through your GCSEs,' Imogen pointed out. 'And that was _before_.' No need to explain what "before" meant. 'At least now you've got me and your mum and Tom…'

Connor didn't look especially cheered. 'That makes it worse, you're all so brainy and me? I'm just average and when I'm in an exam everything I ever knew about proper essay writing goes out the window… GCSEs are different, they're easy, all you have to do is write what you know. A'level I have to actually _think _and_ analyse_.'

Realising he was getting too worked up to concentrate on actual _words_, Imogen decided on a different method of communication.

'Well, if you're screwed anyway maybe this'll help,' she said, dumping herself in his lap and lifting his chin so that she could bestow a deep kiss, her hands cradling his cheeks.

The kiss went on and on and she broke it off only when she felt the tension leave Connor's body (and before she got too swept along herself; they were about to go into an exam, after all). Yet she remained close, nose to nose and exchanging oxygen with him in a moment that was strangely intimate amidst the hurly-burly of the crush hall.

'Better now?' she asked at last when she felt his shoulders lift as he exhaled a long breath.

'H'mmm. If that's what I get for freaking out—'

She grinned. 'You'll have to freak out more often, eh?'

'Something like that.'

They exchanged another quick kiss before separating, aware that they would be expected in hall at any minute now that the Year 11s were streaming out in dribs and drabs. Connor frowned and indicated Kevin, pacing up and down in front of hall's double doors, his hands shoved deeply in his pockets and muttering all the while.

'Looks like someone else could do with some calming.'

'That's Dynasty's job,' Imogen responded without thinking.

'Imogen.' Connor's hands closed over hers. 'Go and talk to her. I'll sort Kev.'

Imogen's throat tightened. 'I've tried! I tried last night, you were there, she hung up on us!'

'Try again. I'm dead serious, she needs you.'

'Now?' Another glance towards the clock. Their exam was due to start at noon and finish at half-one. 'It's not the right time, before an exam. Anyway, I don't know where she is.'

Connor was silent for a long moment before he said, 'Try Mum's room. If there's not an exam in there I bet that's where you'll find Dyn.'

Imogen heaved a sigh and stood up, clutching her exam-ready pencil case. 'Will you be OK?'

He quirked the smile she loved so much. 'I'll live.'

'OK.' She gave a single decisive nod. 'I'll find her. And you, you can go to your mate there and stop him from wearing a path in the lino.'

Connor jerked his head towards Louisa as he got to his feet. 'What about her? She's been staring at us the whole time.'

'Yeah.' Imogen sighed a second time. 'I'll have to do something about that, she needs more mates than just me. Dynasty should help with that anyway,' she added with a flare of indignation as she turned to go. 'She's Head Girl, that's part of the job, isn't it? Helping with new people?'

Connor simply lifted his shoulders in response and Imogen groaned.

'I know, I know. But seriously, if she can't handle it she should give it up!'

'Watch it,' Connor mouthed, indicating the rabble around them and Louisa, still watching them avidly. 'There's an audience. Imagine what Dynasty'd do if she knew you'd said that, and I don't trust her.' He jabbed his thumb in Louisa's direction.

Imogen rolled her eyes, her own misgivings vanishing in the face of Connor's. 'For God's sake, not you as well!'

Her husband simply raised his eyebrows in a manner that reminded her of her mother-in-law, and Imogen tutted to herself as she began to fight her way through the crowded crush hall towards the stairs to Christine's room. They were all so _suspicious_, she thought, Connor, Dynasty, even Christine, although at least her mother-in-law had tried to hide it. Just because they'd been to hell and back the previous term didn't mean that they had to look at all newcomers with a jaundiced eye, did it? Mr Lowsley or no Mr Lowsley…

* * *

**Mrs Mulgrew's room, 11.45am**

* * *

Dynasty knocked on the classroom door, uncharacteristically timid, and hoped that Christine was simply lurking out of sight. She'd had time to think about the older woman's suggestion that she defer her exams and wanted to ask if that extended to this present lot. Common sense told her that she should be talking to Tom or even Mr Lowsley, but she was feeling too raw for that, unsure of her ability to maintain her composure if the answer was no.

As a result she was frankly dismayed when it was the new student teacher who answered the door, opening it just enough to snap, 'Mrs Mulgrew's not here.'

Her tone set Dynasty's teeth on edge.

'No? Well, what're you doing in there then? Staffroom's that way.' She jabbed her thumb down the stairs.

Mrs Aspinall's eyes narrowed. 'I don't need to explain myself to you!'

'You're not exactly actin' innocent like, are yous?' Dynasty's hands had gone to her hips in the old way. 'Peerin' out through the door 'sif you've got something to hide. Whatcha doin', does Christine know you're in there?'

Mrs Aspinall's defined brows went up. '"Christine"?'

Dynasty folded her arms and lifted her chin, the dull sadness lifting at the prospect of a fight. 'That's Mrs Mulgrew in case you 'aven't worked it out.'

'I have work to do,' Mrs Aspinall told her. 'So if you've quite finished being annoying—' She glanced back into the room in answer to a high pitched wail, and Dynasty's eyes widened.

'You've got a kid in there!'

'Yeah, and he's mine. So unless you want a trip to the cooler, I suggest you hop it!'

'You're not allowed kids in school,' Dynasty informed her. 'It happened me first term, a teacher brought a kid in that had chicken pox and Mr Byrne was proper ticked off over it. Chalky nearly got suspended over it, Kev said.'

'Well, I'm not going to get suspended, don't worry. Not if Tom—Mr Clarkson—has anything to do with it!'

Now it was Dynasty who said, '"_Tom_"?' just as Imogen came panting up the stairs calling her name.

Mrs Apsinall nodded in her direction. 'Looks like you're wanted.'

'Well, I'm not movin'.' Dynasty glanced at Imogen as the shorter girl drew level with her. 'Mrs Aspinall's got a kid in Christine's room even though she knows it's not allowed. Claims Tom'll be OK an' all. D'you remember what happened that time with Chalky and the kid with chicken pox?'

'And the foundation on her poor wee face,' Imogen added with a nod, and the two exchanged looks of rueful amusement. 'She's right, miss,' Imogen went on. 'Seriously, you can't keep a kid in school! Especially not this school, you never know what'll happen next!'

'Like a load of broken records,' Mrs Aspinall muttered. 'And who might you be?'

'She's Imogen. Imogen _Mulgrew_. Christine's daughter-in-law,' Dynasty said before Imogen could answer.

To her surprise, Mrs Aspinall very pointedly looked Imogen up and down, her lips twitching. 'Right. And d'you know who I am?'

'Erm, you're a student teacher?'

Mrs Aspinall was openly smirking, her attention still fixed on Imogen. 'Yeah, but I'm also Tom's stepdaughter. Guess I should say, welcome to the family? Then again…' another pointedly assessing look that made Dynasty's blood boil on her friend's behalf, 'maybe not. Too soon to say, h'mm?'

Dynasty grabbed a flabbergasted Imogen's arm. 'C'mon, you. And _you_!' she added with fierce jab in Mrs Aspinall's direction, 'I'm going to tell Mr Clarkson about that kid an' we'll see what he has to say, stepdaughter or no stepdaughter!' Still holding on to Imogen's arm, she pulled the other girl around the corner and down past Mr Windsor's room until they found an empty alcove out of immediate earshot.

'I don't like her,' she said in a rush before Imogen could get a word in. 'She was there this morning when I had a meltdown. Christine sent her for tea an' she never bothered coming back. Shows how much she cares, eh? Crap teacher she'll make at that rate!'

'That's not fair. Maybe she had to go and look after the kid.'

'But what's 'e doin' in school, eh? She's just takin' advantage, she is.'

Imogen looked as though she was about to roll her eyes but caught herself in the nick of time. 'Dynasty, what is it with you at the minute? Are you trying to take a dislike to everyone you meet? First Louisa and now—is it Mika or Chlo?'

'What?'

'Which stepdaughter is it?' Imogen asked. 'Mika or Chlo? Wait, you called her Aspinall. Must be Mika then. '

Dynasty grabbed her arm. 'What, you mean she was tellin' the truth? She wasn't just havin' us on?'

'Why would she?' Imogen's exasperation was tangible.

Dynasty shrugged. ''Cos she wanted to mess with our heads?'

Her friend groaned. 'Look, Dyn, I know it's been… bad lately, but you have to stop treating everyone like they're your enemies. It's not right, it's not you.' She paused. '_Christine_ wouldn't like it, I've heard her say that she didn't want you to become like she used to be, all hard and closed-off.'

The words hit Dynasty with the all the force of a blow to the solar plexus and she gasped, 'Is that what you think of us? That I'm becomin' hard an' closed-off an'—an' hatin' everyone?' The next words were blurted without any conscious forethought: 'Is that why you've started hanging out with that "Lulu"?' Her tone turned the nickname into an expletive and Imogen physically reared back, as though to get away from her.

'Stop it, Dyn! She's my mate now too, the only person around here who _really_ honest-to-God gets what it's like for me bein' deaf…I'd've thought you of all people would understand, it's like you and Christine, the two of you have a special bond ''cos of… . I'm not jealous of that, why're you kicking off about me and Louisa?'

''Cos she's not bein' honest with you!' Dynasty shouted, forgetting caution. 'She's just playin' yer, Im, I'm telling you. If you'd just _listen_—'

'No! Not unless you stop this and become the real Dyn again, the one who cared about people and wanted to give them a chance!'

'She came to school this morning in Mr Lousy's car!'

The look Dynasty got in response was the closest thing to contempt she'd ever seen from her friend. 'And that's it? That's your big secret?'

'Oh, come on, Imogen. It's as plain as the nose on yer face, she's part of the plot to get rid of Christine and make Lousy the Head—'

'I'm not listening to this,' Imogen said, turning on her heel and clattering down the corridor. 'I've an exam to think about.'

'I'm not lyin'!' Dynasty called after her, forgetting it was futile. 'I swear!'

Someone put a heavy hand on her shoulder and she jumped, her heart rate going sky high, her breath catching as she reeled back against the wall. Her 'assailant' turned instantly apologetic.

'I'm sorry I scared you,' Mr Lowsley said carefully, moving his hands back as though in self-defence. 'I didn't mean to, that was insensitive and … yeah.'

Dynasty was still trying to recover herself after the altercation with Imogen and this was the last straw.

'Too bloody right! You're lucky you scared me so much I couldn't think, otherwise I'd've punched you in the face an' you'd've deserved it!'

The dark eyes facing hers hardened. 'All right, Miss Barry, that's enough, calm down now—'

'"Calm down"?' Dynasty repeated. 'Are you serious? D'you have any idea of the total… _shithole…_my life is right now?'

'Dynasty—'

'Don't you Dynasty me, what d'you know about it, thinkin' you can just come in here and take over… like we'll ever want you after the way you treated us last term!'

Mr Lowsley stilled. 'Yeah… I, I'm sorry about that.'

Her carried on talking but Dynasty was barely listening. Her mouth was dry and she was clammily cold in a way that she hadn't been since her bouts of morning sickness the term before. All of a sudden she was sure she was going to be sick, no-one could handle this amount of sheer _feeling_ without being sick, she had to get to the nearest loo fast and…

Mr Lowsley put a hand on her upper arm and she reacted instinctively, turning to knee him hard in the vicious way her mother had taught her (for all the good it had done her with Steve-O…) and stumbled on shaky legs towards the nearest toilet, almost uncaring of the fact that she'd left her Headteacher curled up in a ball of primal agony.

* * *

_TBC! Next time: Dynasty's in serious trouble and the events of the day coalesce into Tom and Christine's first major row... will it also be their last?_


	8. Episode 2-4

_**Next bit, and the end of Episode Two. Thanks as always for the reviews last time!**_

_**Niamh**__: As you see, I tend to update at the weekend. I'm glad you're enjoying and also that you like Tom/Christine! _

_**Paisley**__: Clearly I have a vein of profound bitchiness somewhere. I don't think I'm particularly bitchy in real life as a rule, but I certainly relish giving full rein of that side in fic. Sue gets a comeuppance of sorts here… _

_**Loveistheprotection**__: LOL! Yay, another Tom/Christine convert. _

_**Jessiekat89**__: She really was, but hopefully you'll see why._

* * *

**Downstairs Corridor, Noon**

* * *

Christine was on her way back to her classroom to do some exam marking when she was halted by the sound of a familiar voice calling her name—her given name, no less, and she turned with raised eyebrows, ready to remind Dynasty Barry that it should be "Mrs Mulgrew" in public, whatever the younger woman chose to use in private.

The reproof died on her lips. The girl was white with red-rimmed eyes, but it was the expression of pure panic on her features that gave Christine pause.

She didn't have a chance to enquire. As soon as Dynasty reached her, she grabbed Christine's arm and began dragging her towards the stairs, words tumbling over each other in a barely coherent torrent.

'I've messed up this time, seriously messed up, I dunno what to do, miss, I've really hurt 'im an' if 'e expels us what'll happen, I can't get kicked out, I'm dead sorry, I—'

Christine put a stop to the flow by refusing to allow herself to be pulled along. 'Dynasty, you're not making sense. Who've you hurt?'

Dynasty raised miserable blue eyes to her face. 'Mr Lousy.' A beat. 'I kneed 'im in the balls.'

Christine blinked. 'You—_what_?!'

When the younger woman demonstrated, confirming that she'd heard aright, Christine bit deeply into her lip. She'd never expected to be on the verge of hysterical laughter today, but the combination of George Windsor's malicious nickname for Simon and Dynasty's almost surreal confession was too much. She licked her lips and asked as evenly as she could, 'Er, why?'

'I—I'm not sure,' Dynasty stuttered, now as red as she had been white. ''E was tryin' to talk to us, an' he kept touchin' me. Not in a bad way, just on me shoulder, like, to make sure I was listenin' an' I lost it. I was so messed up I couldn't think straight an'…' Her lashes fluttered down, veiling her eyes. 'I kneed 'im. Like me mum showed us, right where it would 'urt most.'

Amusement died a swift death; Dynasty was right to be worried. She'd effectively assaulted a member of staff with little or no justification, Christine thought. 'Where is he now?'

Dynasty pointed upwards. 'Outside Mr Clarkson's room, the alcove.'

Christine made a sound that was half-sigh, half groan. 'Right. Well, you're coming with me.' She took the girl's elbow and ushered her up the stairs. 'We're going to find him and you're going to do whatever it takes—_whatever_ it takes, young lady—to get him to overlook this.'

'But what if he fires us?'

'He won't,' Christine told her, wishing she could be sure. Memory supplied her with a mental picture of Simon the term before, doing his level best to get Connor arrested after an assault that had followed a much greater provocation. 'He won't.'

'You don't know that!' Dynasty's tone was turning increasingly shrill. 'You're not Head anymore—'

'If one more person tells me that today I will scream,' Christine muttered, giving Dynasty a slight shake as they arrived outside her classroom. 'Dyn, you need to get a grip, do you understand me? This is serious. You need to be calm and as polite and as apologetic as you—' She broke off at the sight of the subject of their conversation coming around the corner, assisted on either side by Mika Aspinall and Sue Spark, and her grasp on Dynasty's arm tightened. 'Now's your chance—and for God's sake make it good!'

* * *

**Upstairs Corridor, 12.05pm**

* * *

Mika was carefully pinning notices along the English corridor, eager to make amends with Tom. After her altercation with Dynasty earlier, she'd decided to anticipate any action the Head Girl might take by going to Tom herself. She'd done so with some misgivings; after all, Tom had instructed her to make other arrangements for Tommy for the very reasons Christine had given: that they couldn't have such a young child in school, that no-one was qualified to look after him, that they weren't covered for his presence in the event of an emergency… and she'd ignored him.

In the event, he hadn't yelled—as she'd half-expected. It'd been worse than that, she could have dealt with him yelling. He'd been gently reproachful and calmly pointed out what a difficult situation she'd put them both in, professionally.

'You're damned lucky Christine isn't Head any longer,' he'd finished, giving her a look that said as clearly as words how much he resented having to make such a statement. 'It's bad enough as it is, but with Simon as Head we might just get away with it. But—and it's a big but—you've got a snowball's chance in hell unless your behaviour is absolutely and completely above reproach, d'you hear me? You've got to promise to toe the line, Mika, or I swear to God I'll phone the college myself and tell them we can't have you and why. You didn't tell _them_ about our relationship, I suppose?'

Feeling sixteen again, she shook her head.

'Or Tommy?'

Her head dropped lower. 'I told them I'd sorted childcare.'

'And have you?' She'd forgotten how intimidating his glare could be, or perhaps the added years had simply increased its strength.

'Yeah… just not for today.' She glanced up at him. 'Tom, I'm sorry, I just wanted you to see him—'

'There's a time and a place for that, and it isn't your first day on placement!'

'I know.' She shuffled her feet. 'Honest, Tom, I'm really sorry, I didn't think.' Once again she sought him out, wondering if she should come clean altogether. 'I—I think I might owe Christine an apology too.'

His jaw hardened and her stomach flipped as she realised he already knew. 'If one-tenth of what I've heard from Sonya is true, you're bloody well right you need to apologise! What the _hell_ was that about at break?'

Without intending it, the truth came out in one go.

'I was scared! Chlo said you couldn't stop talking about her and her kids and she was all pleased for you, you know Chlo, that you've a family of your own again and—and I thought, what about me? There won't be room for _me_!'

'There's always room for you but you're grown up! I can't be the centre of your world any more, that's Tommy and Brett!'

'It's not!' she'd shouted back. 'He cheated on me! I—I'm such an idiot, how could I think he'd ever change?'

Her adopted father had stared at her for a long moment before drawing her into his arms, murmuring affection and apologies into her hair as she struggled to keep hold of her composure.

The breakdown of her marriage had come so swiftly that she was still reeling from it herself: one moment they'd been happy, she'd got pregnant at last after several miscarriages, they'd been full of plans… and then Tommy had arrived and something had changed. Brett's affair with his secretary was simply the last straw. When her teacher training institution gave her a choice of where to go for her second placement and she'd spotted 'Waterloo Road, Greenock' on the list, she'd jumped at it, hungry for a new start and the chance to reconnect with the one source of stability she'd known since her mother's death nearly ten years before.

At last Tom had drawn back, stroking the hair off her face in the old way. 'I'm sorry to hear that, love…I—there's no words, are there?' Dumbly she'd shaken her head and he'd kissed her in the paternal manner she realised she'd missed. 'Look, we'll talk about it later, OK? You're still coming for dinner, yeah?'

So Sonya hadn't told him about that and… well, she bottled out of telling him herself and risking his renewed ire. She'd nodded in meek agreement and allowed him to take charge of Tommy while she herself was set to pinning up the notices advertising the upcoming Careers Day for Years 11 and 12.

'It'll keep both you and this fella out of trouble,' Tom had said with a grin, tickling his young namesake's belly and drawing a delighted gurgle out of him. 'The notices are on my desk. Get cracking with that while you dream up a good apology for Christine, eh?'

Taking that as dismissal, she'd collected her notices and went about her task with a will. As a result, she was not far from the English corridor when she heard the sound of voices that escalated only to be cut off by a strangled yelp. Curiosity piqued, she'd left her notices to take care of themselves and headed for the direction of the whimpering—and found herself confronted with the unexpected sight of Waterloo Road's Headteacher literally writhing on the floor, a hand clutching at his crotch. For a moment Mika wondered if she'd be able to contain her splutters; she wasn't so far removed from her own schooldays that she could help but find this hilarious, even while the adult would-be teacher part of her was horrified.

Sue Spark appeared while she was dithering, dropping the pile of exam papers she was carrying and allowing them to float every which way as she flung herself onto her knees at Mr Lowsley's side.

'Twinkle! Twinkle, speak to me! What's happened to you?'

A series of moans and groans was her only response, and Mika was compelled to move forward by the dirty look Sue sent her way.

'Help me get him up and back to his office,' the Science teacher instructed, her blue eyes very hard. 'When I find out who's done this—'

Remembering the sounds of argument, Mika opened her mouth—and closed it again when Simon Lowsley caught her eye with a decided shake of the head.

'They're heathens and hooligans here,' Sue was saying indignantly as they began to make their slow way towards the stairs. 'Absolute hooligans, half of them'll be in juvenile detention before they're much older. This is what comes of poor leadership, having a Head who's not _properly_ qualified—'

'Shut up, Sue,' Mr Lowsley gasped, and Mika realised why.

Christine Mulgrew was bearing down on them, her lips thin to the point of disappearing, and Mr Lowsley made a sound that Mika could not interpret.

'Mr Lowsley,' Mrs Mulgrew began formally, 'Dynasty Barry has something important to say to you.' She brought the Head Girl forward. 'Go on,' she prompted.

Headmaster and Head Girl proceeded to talk over each other.

'Christine, this isn't necessary—'

'I'm dead sorry, sir, I didn't—'

Sue jumped in, cutting them both off. 'What's this, Twinkle? Are you saying _Dynasty Barry_ attacked you? Right in the crown jewels?'

Once again Mika found herself dying to laugh. It was hard to say who looked more mortified: Mr Lowsley or his assailant, and when she caught Christine's eye and realised that the older woman was in like case some of her earlier antagonism began to drain away.

'Well, Dynasty, you've blown it now, haven't you,' Sue was saying, her tone so close to gloating that Mika found her amusement turning swiftly to discomfort. 'We can't have a Head Girl who goes around assaulting people, can we?'

'I—…no, miss,' Dynasty whispered, and Mika stared. The feisty girl who'd shouted at her earlier was gone; now Dynasty seemed almost beaten.

'It's not my place to set your punishment,' Sue went on, 'but I think I know what'll be, h'mmm? Perhaps you should be taking yourself to the cooler to start writing a certain letter?'

'As you said, it's not your place,' Christine said, putting a hand on the girl's arm. 'Dynasty is going nowhere until Simon says so.'

'It's not yours either!' Sue spat between her teeth. 'You'd better pipe down, Christine, because you're on very fine ice as it is and if my dad knows—'

'Don't even _think_ of threatening me, Miss Spark,' Christine interrupted, her voice going very low. 'I've had enough of letting you people push me around—'

'You shouldn't even be here!' Sue had moved away from Mr Lowsley's side, leaving Mika to support him alone. 'People like you shouldn't be allowed in a position of responsibility ever, you're nothing but poison, you destroy people's lives—'

Dynasty wrenched out of Christine's grasp and threw herself on Sue, flinging the Science teacher hard against the wall. 'Shut your face, you manky cow! You don't know anything about Christine, just shut _up—!_'

Mika could only watch open-mouthed as Christine and Mr Lowsley converged on her while Sue burst into noisy tears and Tom irrupted into the melee, demanding to know what was going on _now_.

* * *

**Mr Clarkson's office, 1.15pm**

* * *

Christine was sitting at Tom's desk, her fingers rubbing her temples as she revisited the events of the past hour in her mind. What had she been thinking of, allowing things to escalate so quickly? And how could she have been so stupid as to hire Sue in the first place, talk about making a rod to beat her own back—

And then there was Dynasty. What the hell was she supposed to do with the girl? She appreciated both the fierce loyalty and the affection that had given it birth, but at the moment it was doing neither herself nor Dynasty any favours. That was two members of staff Dynasty had physically attacked in less than sixty minutes, and Christine was certain that Sue, at least, would not rest until she'd seen Dynasty expelled. And she was in no position to defend the girl… Sheer frustration made her groan aloud.

'Are you OK?' Mika sounded apologetic; surprisingly so, but Christine was in no mood for it.

'Fine.'

'Mrs Mulgrew—'

'Mika, I don't want to hear it,' Christine snapped. A tight band had formed around her forehead and she knew from experience that it was only going to get worse. A glass of water and some peace and quiet would help, but something told her that it would be a while before she could have either.

'I just wanted to say sorry.'

'Whatever.' Christine continued rubbing, pinching her lips together as her fingers encountered one particularly tender spot.

A pause.

Then, 'Is that it? Is that all you're going to say?'

Christine dropped her hands, impatience surging through her. 'What do you want me to say? What does it matter? As everyone's been so keen to remind me, I am not Headteacher here any longer—and you've already made it more than clear that you don't care for me as Tom's partner, so … what does it matter?'

'That's why—'

'Just … go away. Now, please.'

A second pause, followed by the sound of a slamming door, and Christine winced as the reverberations rattled around her already delicate skull. She glanced at her watch; it was almost half past one. She should really go to the cooler and find out what Dynasty was doing, or make her way towards hall to await Imogen and Connor coming out of their exam, but all at once she couldn't find the energy to move. And she'd thought coming back as a teacher would be less stressful than being Head!

The door slammed once again, but before she could protest Tom had planted himself in front of her. 'What the hell did you just say to Mika?'

'What _I_ just said?'

'I've just seen her, she was upset! Said she'd tried to apologise and you'd refused to accept it and told her to get lost!'

'I didn't—' She had to stop to lick her lips. 'I didn't mean it that way.'

'What _did_ you mean? She was wrong earlier, but at least she's tried to do something about it—instead of taking her bad days out on everyone else!'

Christine stiffened. 'What's that supposed to mean?'

'You do it every time, to me, to Connor, to Imogen, to everyone, as if it's our fault that your day's been shit. And we've let you, because we've thought that it's better to take it than to have you hitting the bottle again—but fat lot of good that does, eh? With that little stash you've got hiding under the sink!'

Christine suddenly found it hard to breathe.

'No-one's forcing you to "take it",' she said in a brittle tone when she could speak, even as a little voice inside screamed at her to stop. 'If it's that much of an ordeal you can go. I won't be your charity, Tom.'

'Oh, so here we come to the truth of it. People don't _leave_ you, Christine—you force them out by making it impossible to stay!'

She rocketed out of her seat, ignoring the throb of pain that went through her head, ignoring the deeper ache in her heart. 'You bastard. You absolute _bastard_.'

He looked stricken. 'Christine, I—'

She did not wait for more, brushing past him, walking out of his office, down the corridor, out the doors and through the school gates towards the off-license. There was only one true source of help for her now.

* * *

**Mulgrew Household, 4.30pm**

* * *

'Wait here,' Tom instructed the motley crew who had accompanied him home: a sullen Connor, an anxious Imogen, a watchful Mika and a squalling baby who did not understand the atmosphere but resented it nonetheless. 'I'll go in first; the rest of you can give us five minutes before coming in.'

'Just don't make it worse,' Connor said, his glance baleful. 'It should be me, you've already messed up today.'

'That's why it has to be me,' Tom said for the third time. 'Connor, d'you trust me?' There was a long pause before the boy reluctantly nodded, and Tom let out the breath he hadn't realised he was holding. 'Thanks, mate. Look, try not to worry, OK? I'm gonna do my best to fix this. Even got some bribery an' all,' he added, indicating the huge bunch of prickly roses across his lap that had tortured him all the way home. So beautiful, so spiky, so easily bruised… _Like Christine_, he thought ruefully as he prepared to get out.

'Good luck, Tom,' Imogen said, leaning forwards.

'Yeah,' Mika echoed while Connor gave a short nod.

Tom took a deep breath, aware that his heart was thumping uncomfortably hard as he pushed open the front door.

'Christine?'

No answer, and the thumping intensified. It'd only been a few hours, surely she couldn't have drunk herself into a stupor already? Or what if she'd never come home at all— His blood ran cold at the thought of an intoxicated and vulnerable Christine wandering the streets of Greenock or being plied with more drink in some dive of a pub…

'Christine! Chris, love, if you're there, please sing out!'

A pause, then: 'In here.'

The relief that coursed through him quite literally weakened his knees, and he rushed through the house into the kitchen. 'Christine, I—'

She was standing with her back to the island, an empty bottle of vodka beside her, and his mouth went dry.

Her lips twisted. 'I didn't drink a drop of it. Put it down the sink.'

He wanted to believe her. He _needed_ to believe her… and the intensity of that need held him still as their gazes met. Her eyes were clear, their hazel turned in this light to soft grey-green, and he had to swallow hard as he extended the bunch of roses.

She eyed them warily.

'What this?'

'What d'you think? What I said was… inexcusable.'

'No,' she said softly and his heart sank. 'No, it wasn't.' A beat. 'It was true, and I needed to hear it… but not—not as much as I needed to know you'd come back.'

He tossed the roses onto the nearest stretch of worktop. 'I'll always come back,' he said gruffly. 'If you'll have me—'

Anything else he might have added was choked off when she threw herself towards him, and as they clutched at each other he let their embrace do the talking, holding her to him in silent promise to never let her go.

* * *

**Mulgrew Household, 6.15pm**

* * *

'What about Dynasty?' Imogen demanded, her voice cutting across a lull in the conversation. 'It's all around the school she's being expelled.'

'And how you know anything about it when you were all supposed to be in exams I hate to think,' Tom remarked as he tore off another triangle of pizza. 'Dynasty's been suspended for a week. You'll have to take over as Head Girl, Im, and Dyn's damned lucky Simon was so understanding. If Miss Spark'd had her way, Dynasty'd be out on her ear and there's nothing I could've done to stop it.'

'I don't understand it,' Connor said, frowning as he looked up from where he'd been teasing Tommy with a snippet of pizza. 'He was dead nasty last term to all of us, especially Mum, and now… it's like he's had a personality transplant.'

'Yeah, it's been transplanted into Miss Spark,' Imogen said snidely, and Christine noticed that even Mika smirked in response.

Connor, she was glad to see, was looking happier than he'd done all day, and her stomach flipped as she took in his fascination with Tom's step-grandson. Her son was grown up, a married man… how long before he and Imogen left? Her row with Tom had recalled her old terror of being deserted and alone. How long before her son and daughter-in-law had children of their own? And would they stay close and allow her contact with her grandchildren or would they go far away, unwilling to trust her… Her throat closed and she allowed her head to fall forward so that no-one could see her expression.

'That was amazing pizza, Christine,' Mika said, and she glanced up. 'Thanks.'

Christine gave a half-laugh, knowing that the younger woman was trying once again to make amends and that this time she should attempt to meet her halfway. 'Honestly, don't thank me. I only reheated it and those are from Sainsbury's. The only person around here who does any actual cooking is Connor—'

'Oi!' Tom objected. 'What about the spag bol I made last week?'

'The one you _burnt_ last week, you mean,' Imogen said with a cheeky grin. ''Cos you got distracted, didn't you? Was lucky Connor was here to rescue it!'

'Distracted?' Mika echoed curiously and Christine felt her cheeks burn when her daughter-in-law said, 'They get distracted _all the time_. Connor doesn't know where to look, poor guy can't handle it.'

'Thanks a bunch,' Connor grumbled, while Imogen leaned in for a kiss and he grinned and pulled her close, tickling her ribs until she laughed and squealed.

Perhaps she should have another word with them, Christine thought uneasily. She trusted their desire (or Imogen's at least) for university would keep them careful, but it was easy to get swept away and she wasn't ready to be a grandmother yet. It wasn't as if she'd even had much experience of being a _mother_—

'I need the loo,' Mika said, breaking into her thoughts. 'Would someone take Tommy?'

A voice that sounded like her own volunteered, and a disconcerted Christine found herself with an armful of six-month-old baby for the first time in… almost eighteen years, she realised. She'd avoided being anywhere near babies because the sight, the sound, the _smell_ of them revived memories of that first year of hell, of the nights she'd lain shaking from exhaustion after a long day in college whilst baby Connor screamed nearby, the screams a mixed blessing because they alone had the power to jolt her free from her nightmares…

Tommy began to grizzle, and Christine acted on a long-dead instinct and raised him to her shoulder, one hand going to rub his back as she soothed him into contented quiet. Connor and Imogen too had gone quiet, she saw, staring at her as if they'd never seen her before. When Mika returned from the bathroom she handed the baby over and murmured her excuses, heading for the sanctuary of her bedroom.

She sat on the bed for a long time, staring at her reflection in the long mirror, her arms wrapped around her middle. She'd never thought of herself as maternal; motherhood had been forced on her in the cruellest of ways and it was no exaggeration to say that Connor had largely brought himself up. She'd been of little help, more a hindrance. She was lucky he wasn't more damaged than he was.

'Chris?' Tom's voice said gently from behind her.

'I was wondering,' she said in a voice she was determined to keep steady, 'what it would be like to _enjoy_ a baby.'

He came to sit down and put an arm around her. 'Being a normal parent, you mean? Doing it like everyone else?'

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, realising anew that he genuinely understood after his experience with Josh. 'Yeah, that's it. Parenthood's supposed to be a gift, not something that's … forced on you.'

They sat together for a long moment before Tom said softly, 'Maybe it's something to think about.'

So she thought about it. Thought about planning a child with this man, of enduring pregnancy and childbirth with him by her side. Having a child together was a commitment and she knew it was not one he would undertake lightly; a child would tie him to her, permanently.

She pushed that thought aside, but it was there, insistent: _he won't leave if you have his child. _

But could she? She was over forty, a barely recovered alcoholic with an intermittent smoking habit. There were no guarantees and a terrifying number of risks. She'd messed up motherhood once, did she really want to attempt it again at this point in her life?

'Chris?' Tom prompted, and she realised she'd neglected to answer.

She turned her head to look at him, staring hard into his eyes as though by so doing she could read deep into his soul.

'Yeah,' she said eventually allowing a smile to play around her lips, 'yeah, you're right. It's definitely something to think about.'

* * *

_I bet at this point one half of you will have groaned and the other half will have cheered—because that's the general reaction to babyfic or proposed babyfic. However, this isn't all it seems so… trust me? And see you next time!_


	9. Episode 3-1

**Responses below, as per usual. Came 'em coming; ****Mandy****, that's a good suggestion for Sue. I have some ideas anyway but it could work… *cogitates* Although perhaps people just like her being mean? Give us a shout if you want her to stay a baddie or have some redeeming motivation/dark secret etc.**

**Sophie**: Well, here you are! As far as babyfic goes, you'll have to wait and see what happens…

**You6**: *grins* I'm glad you enjoyed it. I could've made it a lot funnier, more ridiculous, but I didn't want to go OTT.

**Mandy**: Mental health problem? H'mmmmm…. and there's the tranquilisers…

**Paisley**: Sue's soooo annoying. She started off OK but turned really irritating. I'm thoroughly enjoying showing that here and developing reasons for her dislike of Christine et al. That's never really addressed in the show—although I suppose it could come. I'm intrigued by hints that Simon could leave? Apparently the actor has said that S9 will be big for Simon… and those recent pics of Christine with the new Head are also interesting. Romance? Christine re-promoted to Deputy Head at least? Darn it, I just want WR to end with her being happy! (She says while plotting to put poor Christine through umpteen wringers, yet again…)

**Caitlin**: *g* Farce or near-farce was what I was going for, so glad you found it funny.

**Loulouberry**: Thanks! :)

**loveistheprotection**: LOL! I assume you like the idea… ! It won't be smooth sailing, though but I'm sure you must have guessed that by now.

**Guest**: Well, there's plenty more Tom/Christine drama to come!

* * *

**Mulgrew Household, 7.15am**

* * *

Christine halted at her kitchen door as she finished fastening an earring, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as she observed the apparent family scene before her. For once both Tom and the kids were seated around the table, with Connor and Imogen squabbling over who would get the cream from the top of the milk and Tom ignoring them while he frowned over some papers from school.

Connor, she saw, had gained the milk by the simple expedient of tickling his wife until she wriggled, thus loosening her hold on the bottle. It was refreshing to see her son so happy, his face alight in a way she'd rarely seen. Imogen had been good for him…

'Hey. Aren't you planning on eating breakfast?' Tom asked, jolting her out of her reverie with a meaning look.

'H'mmm. That's if Connor and Imogen have left anything,' she responded mildly as she came to sit down. It was odd; this simple normality was something she'd never known in her adult life, and Connor's bemused expression told her he agreed.

'You look great, Christine,' Imogen offered as she passed the cereal, grey-green eyes taking in Christine's black trouser suit and silky red top, both exhumed from their month-long banishment at the back of the wardrobe. 'What's the occasion?'

She lifted her chin. 'I've decided I'm not going to fade into the background, no matter what Robert Bain and his cronies want. I was Head of Waterloo Road for a term and I think—I really think—I did a damn good job. I'm not going to let them forget it!'

Connor gave the crooked grin that was so characteristically his. 'That's great, Mum, you really look the part, more than Mr Lousy does, anyway.' A pause. 'Are you hoping to get it back?'

'I—' Christine halted, her gaze colliding with Tom's. _Did_ she want the Headship back? All at once she found she was no longer certain; for the first time in decades she had a life outside work and was sober enough to enjoy it. 'Actually, I don't know, Connor. I… do you know what? I think I might try just having a life for a change!'

Her son's grin broadened into a proper smile as he pushed his seat back, pausing by Christine's side for a moment before leaning in and giving her a clumsy kiss on the cheek. 'You deserve it. Coming, Im?'

Imogen nodded vigorously and followed him out, leaving Christine and Tom alone, and she felt a flush rise on her cheeks as he studied her.

'What?'

He smirked. 'You look happy.'

'I didn't realise it was so newsworthy. Pass the milk, would you?'

'When are we going to tell them?'

All at once her happiness fled and she had to force a smile. 'When there's something to say?'

Tom frowned. 'Thought you said the doctor had given you the OK.'

'Oh, he did. He did.' She swirled a spoon through her cornflakes without looking at him. 'Provided I keep off the drink and the smokes I should be fine.'

It was a lie. She hadn't visited the doctor; she hadn't dared. She'd a sneaking suspicion that he'd douse her hopes of getting pregnant with an icy shower of common sense and she didn't need to hear it. Any hope was better than none, she told herself. Tom's delight at the mere possibility of having a child together terrified her as much as it touched her; she could not rid herself of the nagging worry that she would lose him if she could not conceive.

'Chris?'

She was spared the need to reply by Connor's return, dressed and ready for school, his earlier smiles replaced by a glower, and her eyebrows rose.

'What's the matter, son?'

'Imogen,' he grunted. 'She's FaceTimin' Lulu, they're signing away without using their voices … I don't like it.'

'What, the signing?' Tom asked, sounding amused. 'Don't you think it's good for Imogen to have someone she can do that with?'

'It's not that, I don't like _her_,' Connor snapped. 'Ever since she came Imogen and Dynasty have just grown further and further apart… and Dyn bein' away the past week hasn't helped.'

'Dynasty herself hasn't helped,' Tom said carefully. 'She's pushed everyone away, including her mum and her sister, from what Kace's said.'

Connor gave a single glum nod. 'Yeah, _and_ Kevin. Louisa's trying to muscle in there too.'

'With Kevin?' Christine echoed. 'I find that hard to imagine.'

'So would I, if Dynasty'd just give him time of day. Mum, can't you do something?'

'_Me_?' Christine was startled. 'Connor, I can't start interfering in your friends' love lives, it'd be totally inappropriate!'

'She won't to listen to anyone else!'

'He has a point,' Tom said, giving her a look. 'Oh, come off it, Chris. You and me both know that appropriate or not, you and Dyn have a relationship that goes way beyond teacher and pupil. She needs to get a grip before she comes back on Monday or she's going to lose everything. Sue's still on at Simon to expel her.'

Christine could not help stiffening at Simon's name and Tom sighed.

'He's a good bloke, really he is, but Sue's a champion nagger—'

'—And he's too much of a wimp to say no,' Connor finished, his mouth twisting in an expression his mother recognised. '_Please_, Mum?'

She groaned and lifted her hands. 'Fine. Fine, I can't fight you both. I'll go and see her this afternoon, will that do?' They nodded in tandem and she tutted. 'Just… for Pete's sake, don't go expecting miracles!'

'I won't,' Connor promised, shifting from one foot to the other in an agitated fashion. 'Can we go now?'

'You're in a hurry,' Tom observed.

'Yeah, the sooner we go, the sooner I can get Imogen off the phone.'

Christine was aware of a prickle of unease. 'You really don't like Louisa. Why? It's not like you.'

Her son met her gaze squarely as he pushed away from the table. 'She's hiding something. I know. I just _know_.'

The hairs lifted on the back of Christine's neck at that as she and Tom took the hint and finished getting ready to leave. Was she imagining things or was there a subtext there?

* * *

**Bain Household, 7.55am**

* * *

'Well, Simon? Have you decided yet? What I asked you to consider last night?'

Louisa examined her aunt through her eyelashes as Sue sat next to her fiancée. Simon, she saw, looked uncomfortable—but then he often did when Sue started wheedling. Louisa wondered if Sue realised what an idiot she looked, but the doting expression on her Gramps' face across the table explained everything. Sue was the youngest, the most indulged of his three daughters, and she'd always been able to wrap her father around her little finger.

_Shame she's never twigged that trying it on with Simon only annoys him_, Louisa thought scornfully as she watched. _But then, Auntie Sue has never been terribly _bright—

'Sue, you need to let this go,' Simon was saying in between swift gulps of _Alpen_. 'Dynasty's been punished. She's a good student who's just been through a nightmare; you can't blame her for not being completely herself.'

'So it's OK for her to viciouslyattack us?' Sue sounded petulant instead of genuinely annoyed. 'Simon, I don't understand you. It doesn't matter what happened to her last term, she's nearly eighteen, isn't she? Old enough to grow up, regardless!'

Most unexpectedly, Louisa found herself speaking up on Dynasty's behalf—if only to annoy Sue. 'D'you know what happened to her?'

'Oh, I know about her brother, of course. It was terrible and tragic, but it's still no—'

'She was raped,' Louisa cut in with the ease of long practice. 'By the guy who killed Barry. Imogen Mulgrew told me and she should know.'

'_Louisa_!' her grandfather objected. 'Do you think this is an appropriate conversation for the breakfast table?'

Louisa glared. 'It was Sue who brought it up, not me!'

'Yes, well, you were the one who mentioned rape. Now, be a good girl and pipe down. Your aunt and uncle are trying to have a professional conversation.'

'A professional conversation that involves you, Louisa,' Sue said, simpering across the table in a manner that made Louisa want to behave as though she was eight instead of almost eighteen. 'Because we all know how much you want to be Head Girl, don't we? And naturally, if Dynasty Barry is deprived of her badge… who better than you to take over?'

'Apart from the minor detail that in that case it'd go to Imogen,' Simon remarked.

Sue made a polite but dismissive noise. 'Don't be absurd, Twinkle. She's totally unsuitable.'

Louisa's eyes switched back to Simon, her heart rate picking up. It was no secret in the family that her desire to be Head Girl bordered almost on obsession; her failure to secure that post at her last (very expensive and extremely exclusive) school was a primary factor in her decision to transfer to Waterloo Road for the rest of her schooldays. She'd assumed that with Simon installed as Head it would only be a matter of time before she gained that elusive badge.

But Simon was saying, coolly, 'She's done the job while Dynasty's been away.'

'Yes, but… come on, Twinks! That's just for a few days, it's not the same as doing it always! She's not… well, she's not _capable_, is she?'

'Because she's deaf, you mean?' Louisa snapped before she had time to think, a lifelong reflex kicking in. 'What about Emily? _She's_ Head Girl at Dene Hollow.'

Sue waved that off.

'That's different, darling. It's a special school, isn't it? It isn't the same at all. It would be sheer cruelty to force it on Imogen in a place like Waterloo Road. I'm only thinking of her, you know—and you. I know how hard it's been having your twin get the job while you haven't even made prefect.'

Louisa stiffened as Sue once again rubbed salt in an old wound. Sue herself had been first prefect and subsequently Deputy Head Girl at the boarding school they'd both attended, and she seemed to relish reminding Louisa of it every five minutes. Then Simon added insult to injury by saying that Imogen or no Imogen he still wouldn't give her the job at Waterloo Road.

She slammed her cup down on its saucer, ignoring her grandfather's spluttered reproaches in defence of her late grandmother's most cherished china. 'Why, Uncle Si? Don't you I think I can do it?'

Simon glowered at her from under black brows. 'Look, Lulu, I've told you before. I don't like you calling me that. Secondly, whether or not you can do it is irrelevant. Did you and Sue never stop to think of that while you collected your 'evidence' of Christine Mulgrew's supposed nepotism? How'd you think it'd look, if I made you Head Girl and _our_ connection came out? My credibility as a head teacher would be shot to bits!'

'Oh, Christine,' Sue sniffed. 'I can't imagine why you're worrying about _her_.'

Simon's shoulders were tense. 'It's bloody hard not to when my whole school still looks first to her!'

'That's because you haven't been assertive enough, sweetheart. You need to put your own stamp on the place, let the kids and Christine Mulgrew know you're the boss now.'

'Do I?' There was a strange note in his voice that made Louisa stare at him. 'I don't know, Sue. I don't know if I want to.'

'Simon!'

He'd risen to his feet. 'Yeah. The longer I'm in this job the more I start questioning my right to it—'

'But you were the one who said—'

'That was then. I… my head was all over the place, you know why.' He ran a hand through the shock of dark curls that clustered on the top of his head. 'I'm sorry, Robert. I'm not bailing on you, but… this whole thing? It leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Sour. As if it's not _Christine_ who's been guilty of nepotism—' He threw his napkin across the table and stalked out.

Louisa's gaze slid back to her aunt.

She was not surprised when Sue promptly burst into tears and her Gramps immediately began to console her in a ritual that had been familiar to Louisa since early childhood. It was a moment of epiphany; Auntie Sue had never had to stand on her own feet, there'd always been someone supporting her from below. Then and there, Louisa determined that would not be true of _her_. She'd get what she wanted—but she'd get it her own way, not Sue's way.

* * *

**Barry Household, 8.15am**

* * *

'Come on, love. You'll have to head soon and you ain't had brekker yet.'

'In a minute, Mum. I'm not hungry anyway.'

'Aw, come on, Kace.' Carol's tone turned imporing. 'I'm worried about you, kiddo. This is an exam year for you an' all and you need some grub in yer—'

Realising that her mother wasn't going to give up, Kacey unlocked her bedroom door. 'I had somethin' earlier, when I came in from me run.'

Carol looked dubious. 'You sure?'

Kacey gave a decided nod, and her mother sighed. 'Fine. Are you happy to go in by yerself?'

'Mum!'

Carol grinned. 'Daft question, weren't it? 'Course you're OK to go in, you're a Barry. Come on.' She put a hand on Kacey's shoulder and guided her down the stairs just as the doorbell rang, and Kacey stiffened automatically. That sound had rarely presaged anything good in her experience.

'Well, look who it is!' Carol greeted, sounding unsurprised as she opened the door to reveal Harley Taylor and Lula Tsibi. 'Swots, you two are, comin' for Kace at this time instead o' leavin' it til the last possible minute.'

Lula looked reproachful. 'Don't you think education is important, Mrs Barry? Where I come from, Waterloo Road… it is like paradise,' she said as Carol rolled her eyes. 'You cannot imagine… and Kacey is our friend. Harley and me, we do not like to see her come in alone, like some person no-one likes.'

'She means a Billy-No-Mates,' Harley said with exaggerated patience. 'That ain't Kace, though.' He grinned at her. 'Come on, see if you can keep up this time!'

Kacey winced. They'd come the day before but she'd followed them so slowly that to all intents and purposes she'd walked to school alone.

'I am looking forward to today, it should be _interesting_,' Kacey heard Lula say as she shrugged into her coat. 'Mrs Abernethy told us yesterday, for today we are not to raise our hands once, but once! How that will work?'

'It'll be a laugh,' Harley chortled. 'The good teachers'll have everythin' under control, but the crap ones…. ' He sniggered. 'Can yous imagine what them'uns in Year 10'll be like with Miss Spark? Darren Hughes'll be made up!'

'We'll find out,' Kacey reminded him through her tightly wound scarf. It was still January and bitterly cold outside. 'Miss Spark has us all for Science first double 'cos Mr Duffin is going to that curriculum thing with Mr Clarkson. I 'eard 'im say so the other day.'

Carol tried to look stern. 'Well, don't you be giving that girl any trouble, eh? Can't be a walk in the park havin' to teach brats like you lot.'

'_Or_ Darren Hughes,' Lula commented with one of her wide smiles, and Kacey grinned, suddenly looking forward to the day as they trooped out of the house and down the road.

It had been difficult, being the only Barry at school under the circumstances, but Kacey had been warmed by the silent sympathy she'd received from the other kids and staff alike. Miss McFall, Mrs Budgen and Mrs Mulgrew had been their usual selves while Mr Clarkson had tried (and failed, given the frigid weather) to distract everyone by putting on a girls versus boys football match. The only exception had been Miss Spark, who'd treated Kacey with icy coldness whenever they'd happened to come across each other, but as she only taught Kacey's class on Fridays that was less problematic that it might have seemed. All the same, as Kacey listened to Harley and Lula's speculations on what the day would bring, she found herself hoping that the joint class with Year 10 would give Miss Spark something (and someone) else to think about. She had enough crap to deal with right now without _that_.

* * *

_**Next time: **__Simon tries to make his mark, Imogen flips out, and the joint Years 10/11 Science lesson is anything but productive._


	10. Episode 3-2

_Thanks for the responses last time, folks, it was amazing! Interesting to see what people think of Sue both here and in the show—huge range of opinions. Personally, I'm wondering if that moment with Hector at the end of 9b is going to factor in Simon's ultimate departure in any way so… I'm intrigued for what's coming, not least to see how Christine copes with her demotion. That was one of the reasons I decided to follow canon with this story._

* * *

_**Reviews, then!**_

_**Faith**__: I'm not sure it would matter even if he did know, given she's his daughter. Although… h'mm, you've given me an idea. I'll have to play with it first!_

_**Paisley**__: Thanks!_

_**Jessiekat89**__: Christine knows the odds are against her, but the question is whether it's as much of an issue as she thinks… ;) As for Louisa, more on that next time!_

_**Guest**__: I usually only update once a week, but inspiration has flowed unusually freely this time. _

_**can't log in**__: Sue on magic mushrooms? That is genius. Instead of tranquillisers, perhaps._

_: Sue's not too pleasant in this next bit, but I do have sympathy with her. I think Simon was right—she's probably better suited to a more academically inclined school. I've had experience of trying to teach in a school that's not academic and it can be soul destroying if you're that way inclined yourself. You really need to rethink why (and how) you're doing it. _

_**Sue Spark**__: um, oops? LOL._

_**AmyOncer**__: Seems like he's already gone, as far as current filming is concerned!_

_**Fliss**__: Thank you! And thanks for sharing about Simon, that's interesting (as well as annoying because it's still what, three months before it's on again?!)._

_**Guest**__: More on Sue coming up next! Whether it's 'redeeming' or not will be for you to decide, I think. _

_**Loveistheprotection**__: You should enjoy this next bit!_

_**SweetiesNCupcakes**__: Thanks! I'm starting to develop more of a backstory for Sue in my head, but if you've any dark secret ideas you'd like to share/see pursued drop me a line and I'll think about it._

* * *

**Staff Room, 8.30am**

* * *

Tom was in a good mood as he followed Simon Lowsley into the staffroom for that morning's briefing, his eyes automatically seeking out Christine, seated as usual between Audrey and Maggie with Sonya perching on the arm of the latter's chair. The other teachers huddled in clusters throughout the room; at this time, the heating was very reluctantly coming to life and the room often took hours to reach a comfortable temperature.

Simon, he saw, seemed rather pleased with himself. Sue, seated alone across the coffee table from Christine _et al_, was anything but if her long face was anything to go by. He looked towards his stepdaughter, who'd forged an awkwardly tentative friendship with the young teacher, and raised questioning eyebrows, but Mika's only answer was a shrug. Then Simon started talking about his big idea for the day and Tom found there was no time for extras.

'Some of you might have seen the coverage in the _Times Ed_ last week about raising classroom participation by banning the raising of hands. Yeah? It was in one of the supplements—' As the staff murmured, Tom's heart sank as he scoured his own memory of the articles in question. 'Well, we're gonna give it a go, because hey, anything's worth trying to raises standards, yeah?'

This time the murmur was unquestionably dubious. Tom could see how Simon's shoulders slumped at the lack of enthusiasm.

'Come on, folks, it'll be great! This is how it works. Instead of the kids putting up their hands, the idea is that they call out answers and generate discussion amongst themselves. Or, you lot can steer things by inviting people to answer. They'll all have to pay attention because anyone can be picked on, see?'

'But that requires advance planning on our parts,' Audrey objected while George Windsor groaned. 'We haven't had the chance.'

'It'll be chaos,' George predicted gloomily. 'Sorry, Simon, no can do for me. I'll stick to tried and tested if you don't mind.'

'Oh, come on, George, you can't do that!' Simon protested. 'This is only gonna be a proper trial if we're all in it. C'mon, give it a try? Sue? Surely you did this last year—'

Sue visibly wilted, but with the battery of eyes on her she'd clearly decided she had to stand by her man, regardless of her true opinions. She gave a bright nod. 'Yes! Honestly, people, it's amazing! The kids really enjoy it, they find it so—so _liberating_!'

A profound and sceptical silence was the only response, and as Tom began to mentally file this under Great In Theory But Utterly Impractical in Real Life he was startled when his lover spoke up.

'For what it's worth, I'm in,' she said. 'I'm all for getting those kids who don't usually contribute to speak up and if this works—' She lifted her shoulders. 'Well, it's only for one day and it's worth a go.'

'Thanks, Christine. Thanks a million.' Simon sounded pathetically grateful. 'Anyone else?'

One by one the majority of the other staff agreed, and Tom had to struggle to repress a smug smile. Last term to the contrary, he found Simon to be a decent bloke, by and large, but he couldn't help appreciating this demonstration of the staff's continued loyalty to their former Head.

'George?' Christine prompted, glaring at her old friend, and Tom grinned. Christine's management of George Windsor was a wonder to behold. 'Come on, you're not going to sit this one out, are you?' Her lips twitched. 'Because otherwise we might start wondering if you're up to it—'

'Fine. Anything to keep you happy,' George snapped, folding his arms. 'But if the school tumbles down around our ears, it's you I'm blaming, Chrissie darling.'

She was unmoved.

'Blame away. I can't be held accountable for your poor classroom management.' The bell went at that point and Christine rose. 'Are we done?'

She still had difficulty using Simon Lowsley's given name, Tom noted.

Simon nodded. 'Yeah, unless there's anything anyone wants to add?'

A series of rustlings as the staff rose to their collective feet was his answer, and Tom grinned again when the other man began to move towards the connecting door. He'd a feeling Simon Lowsley wasn't enjoying being Head of Waterloo Road as much as he'd anticipated—

'For God's sake, Tom, turn it down,' Christine muttered as she passed him. 'You're grinning like a loon.'

'Sorry.' He tried to moderate his smirk, but it was sabotaged when she gave a small but unmistakable wink. 'Lunch? My office?'

She looked surprised. 'Will you be back in time?'

'Bloody well better be,' he grumbled. 'Curriculum meetings are like watching paint dry. Having lunch with you, on the other hand—'

'Get a room, you two, and stop blocking the traffic,' George complained as he tried to get past. 'At least last term the rest of us didn't have this rubbed in our faces.'

Christine gave Tom a second wink and pivoted on her heel. 'What's the matter George, getting a little green?'

'Sod off, Chrissie.' George stalked past them, slamming the staffroom door in their faces, and Christine and Tom exchanged a look before bursting into laughter.

Next it was Sonya.

'Well done, boss! That's put 'im in 'is place an' all.' The secretary looked so wistful as she joined them that Tom gave Christine a meaning nudge; he'd a feeling that Sonya would appreciate the opportunity to vent.

As he'd hoped, she took the hint, putting a hand on the shorter woman's shoulder. 'Fancy working your magic on the photocopier for me?' When Sonya nodded, visibly brightening, Christine gave Tom a nod over her shoulder as they departed, and Tom turned to retrieve his own bag from where he'd dumped it.

And found the one other remaining occupant of the staffroom watching him with narrowed eyes, her arms folded.

'You and Christine are up to something,' Mika remarked. 'Going to tell us?'

'Nope,' he responded. 'None of your business.' He glanced at the door. 'Haven't you got somewhere to be?'

Mika gave a dismissive wave. 'Yeah, shadowing Sue.' She scoffed. 'Like I'll learn much from her, I think _I_ can manage a class better than she does.'

Tom raised an eyebrow. 'Easy to say, my love. Easy to say. Fine, make yourself useful.' He pushed his briefcase into her arms. 'There's a whole pile of schemes of work in there. Sort 'em by subject, would you?' He turned to boil the kettle.

For several moments the only sounds were the bubbling of the water and the rustlings of the papers Mika was sorting, underscored by her melodious humming.

'It's serious, you and Christine,' she observed at last, and he stiffened, recalling her behaviour of the previous week.

'Yeah, and no trying to mess this up, Mika,' he warned, pointing the flat end of his teaspoon at her. 'Christine and me…. Well, we _fit_. Like I haven't experienced with a woman since… since your mum,' he ended softly.

Mika's eyes were very bright, their blue glistening. 'She's nothin' like my mum.'

'No,' Tom agreed, remembering Izzie. 'She's not, but that's OK. She's—she's amazing.' He gave a sheepish grin. 'I feel like a kid near her. I thought that part of me died when your mum did.'

'OK.' Mika's expression was very soft. 'As long as you're happy, that's all me and Chlo care about.'

'I am.' He thought of their secret resolution, their secret hope, and all at once he had to share it with _someone_. 'We're gonna try for a baby.'

Mika laughed. 'Very funny.'

'I'm not kidding.'

His adopted daughter stared. 'You're crazy, you've only been with her for how long?…And let's not forget, the woman's a alcoholic! How d'you know she won't fall off the wagon again and leave you literally holding the baby?'

Tom's lips compressed as he grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her to a seat. 'You don't know what you're talking about. D'you know why she drank?'

Her eyes round, Mika shook her head.

Tom had to take a deep breath, to prevent himself from screaming at her. 'She was raped. Connor's a product of that rape.' Mika's softly tanned complexion bleached to a sickly sallow tone before flushing. 'Yeah, exactly. Most women would have aborted, wouldn't they? Wouldn't _you_?' He glared and her gaze dropped. 'That's what I thought. Christine'd be the first to admit her failings as a parent, but what you're implying is absolutely _not_ one of them.' A pause. 'She and her kids are my family now, just as much as you and Chlo. If you love me—'

She swallowed. 'OK, OK, keep your hair on. I'm sorry.' She hesitated, then, 'Connor's really…? And she's kept him his whole life, she's never—?'

'Yup.' Tom folded his arms. 'For better or for worse, that boy's only ever lived with his mother.'

Mika sighed. 'It still seems dead risky to me. She's how old, forty? Forty-five? Even if yous get pregnant the chance of complications is sky high. What if something goes wrong?'

'Then we'll deal with it, _together_. But we're not gonna borrow trouble!' He sat on the table opposite and reached for her hand. 'Please. I don't need your support, but I'd like to have it… especially as I'd like to marry her, eventually. If she'll have me.'

He was surprised when his self-possessed elder stepdaughter hurled herself at him.

'You're my dad, Tom,' she whispered into his ear. 'Better than our real dad ever was… I love you, no matter what. So yeah, if you're sure—'

His smile stretched from ear-to-ear when he pulled back. 'Thanks, love. I appreciate it. And I'm not ignoring your concerns,' he added more gently. 'We're not stupid, we know the risks, but nothing ventured and all that.' He glanced at the clock; it was nearly nine. The bell would be going at any minute and he had a sudden desperate need to speak to Christine before going to his Year 12s. 'I've gotta head; can you finish those papers for me?'

She nodded and he grinned and ran.

* * *

**Mrs Mulgrew's room, 9.05am**

* * *

'Best behaviour, you lot,' Christine warned her Year 10 tutor group as they began to file out on their way to Science. 'Remember, I'm just up here, h'mm? If I hear any trouble I will intervene and whoever's responsible will end up feeling _extremely_ sorry for themselves, trust me. Understood?'

Her form group murmured and grumbled in response and she shook her head in exasperation, shuffling the piles of exam papers on her desk. She'd done the best she could; it was up to Sue now, and in the meantime Year 8 would be upon her at any moment.

'Come on, hurry up!' she heard Tom call, and she glanced up to see him at her classroom door. 'You're like a pack of snails, what is this, some kind of reverse race?'

Taking the hint, Year 10 moved with a little more alacrity and Tom entered, kicking the door shut behind him before crossing to her, his hands going to her shoulders and his eyes fixing on hers.

'What's wrong?'

His mouth quirked. 'Just thinking. You do want this, don't you?'

''Course I do.' She licked her lips. 'Where's this coming from?'

'I don't want to pressure you into this, after all, you're the one who'd need to do the hard work!'

'Tom, do you really think I'd let you pressure me into this? _This_? Really? Idiot.' She leaned forward to kiss him gently. 'It's just … what if we can't? What if we're too old? If _I'm_ too old?' Her pulse was loud in her ears as she posed the question.

'We'll just accept it's not meant to be,' he said philosophically, and some of the tight ball of twisted anxiety inside her began to relax. 'But there's nothing stopping us from having a hell of a lot of fun in the meantime, is there?'

She laughed. 'You're worse than the kids.'

He grinned. 'Yeah, and you love it. Talking of the kids—'

'What?'

'You should tell them,' he said in a rush. 'Or at least Connor.'

Momentarily she closed her eyes, trying to picture all the ways that conversation could go. 'That'll be awkward.'

'Better than Imogen's lectures on contraception,' he reminded her, his own eyes twinkling, and once again she found herself laughing. Despite everything, she'd done more of that in the past month that she had in years.

'_Fine_, I'll do it.' Her stomach flip-flopped at the mere thought, but there was no time for anything more for her Year 8s were pouring in and she was acutely aware of twenty-seven curious gazes. 'You'd better go,' she murmured.

'See you at lunch.' A final wave, and he was gone.

Christine turned back to Year 8, who'd seated themselves with a remarkable minimum of fuss and gave them an approving smile. 'Right, then. Your exams!' She split the pile of papers into two. 'Lauren, Justin, hand these out, will you?'

She leaned back against her desk as they obeyed, trying not to worry about that promised conversation with Connor. If only she could get out of it. If only she could lie…

But pregnancy—or the lack of it—was one thing that could not be hidden indefinitely.

* * *

**Mr Clarkson's room, 9.20am**

* * *

'Sorry I'm late,' Mr Clarkson called as he entered his room. 'Only got a few minutes with you, folks, 'cos I've got this curriculum meeting to get to. I'm trusting you lot to look after yourselves while I'm gone, but Miss Boston's next door if you need anything, yeah?'

'I'm sure we'll cope perfectly well, sir,' Louisa said in her smooth way, and Imogen inwardly marvelled. She was starting to think of Tom-and-Christine as a single unit which made him family in her eyes (if not Connor's, just yet) but even she would not dare to speak to him like that.

Tom didn't seem to mind. 'Glad to hear it. Oh, one thing before I go. Mr Lowsley wants us to try something new, so for today there's to be no hands. Shouting out allowed,' he added with a grin, and Imogen's heart sank as several people took immediate advantage and Tom's answers turned piecemeal and—from her perspective—utterly incomprehensible, lacking either explanation or context.

'Yes…. No… Shouldn't think so… Very funny, Jack … What's that, Kevin?'

Kevin's voice asked something from where he sat halfway down the classroom, but as far as Imogen was concerned he might as well be speaking in Mandarin.

'Yeah, if it works,' Tom was saying. 'Apparently it's the latest and greatest in education, so who are we to argue—' He shrugged and the class laughed.

By this time Imogen's dismay had turned to frustration laced with anger. In defiance of the new dictum, her hand shot up. She was making a _point_, she told herself fiercely.

'Imogen,' Tom said, sounding surprised. 'No hands, remember?'

'Will I just go home then?' she demanded, glaring at him. 'Cos why should I bother staying at school today, eh? 'Cos it's just gonna be a waste of time!'

'Imogen—'

'It's just for one day,' Connor said, leaning across the aisle. 'You can cope for one day.'

'And what if it's not one day? What if Mr Lousy decides to make it permanent, h'mm? I'll be screwed, totally screwed! It's hard enough takin' part in class discussion as it is, without hands to help…!' She came to stop, horrified to find that her eyes were filling. It was times like these that she hated being the only deaf pupil at a hearing school. It was times like these that she felt positively alien.

Tom was looking troubled. 'I'm sorry, Imogen.' He came closer, hunkering down. 'Sorry, love,' he repeated, his tone softening. 'Should have realised how this would affect you, but… it slipped my mind.'

Imogen's throat was too tight for words, but Louisa spoke up.

'It's all right, sir. You're not a teacher of the deaf, are you.' The insolence was only lightly veiled, but for once Imogen did not care. She sent Louisa a grateful glance, and the other girl's lips curved. 'Perhaps I could help?'

Ignoring Tom's presence, Imogen signed, 'How?'

'_That's_ how,' Louisa signed back. Aloud, she said, 'If the staff agreed, I could interpret for Imogen during discussion.'

'Would you? Could she, sir? It'd make such a difference!'

Tom was looking unsure. 'Yeah, but she's here to learn, not act as learning support. If she's doing that for you, she can't take part herself.'

Imogen stiffened. 'Well, you lot should've thought of that, shouldn't you? Either way, one of us is going to get left out!'

'Shut up!' Connor hissed across the aisle. 'What are you trying to do, wind him up?'

'Thanks for your support!' Imogen hissed back before deliberately slanting herself so that she couldn't see him. 'Mr Clarkson, if you don't let Lulu do this, I'm telling you, I'm walking.'

'If you do, you'll be walking into the cooler,' Mr Clarkson warned. 'You're Head Girl this week, remember.'

Imogen was just about to tell Tom what he could do with the Head Girlship when she recalled that she was simply holding it for Dynasty—Dynasty, who'd been suspended. If she too was to get into trouble during her tenure as acting Head Girl, serious questions would be asked about Tom and Christine's prefect appointments the previous term. No matter how angry she felt, she wouldn't do that to either of them.

She subsided, her head moving in a single nod.

Tom sighed. 'Good.' He hesitated, then, 'Louisa, if you're happy to do that then… be my guest. I'll let the rest of the staff know.' A pause. 'And thanks; it's good of you to offer.'

Louisa beamed, her blue eyes sparkling as she shook her hair away from her face. 'It's no problem, Mr Clarkson. I'm only being a friend. Isn't that what friends do?'

Imogen took advantage of that to send a triumphant glance towards her husband: _See! I was right!_

His answering glower told her what he thought of _that_.

* * *

**Miss Spark's room, 10.15am**

* * *

'If you could just settle down and concentrate on your worksheets,' Miss Spark was saying a touch desperately for the fifth time, and Kacey and Harley rolled their eyes at each other. Why did the woman think it would work now when the last four attempts had failed?

'She's a numpty,' Lula declared in disgust as she flipped over her own worksheet. 'Look, she is doing nothing to make them behave—' She flinched and twisted, one hand rubbing at the back of her neck. 'Darren Hughes, if you that again I will kill you!'

The Year 10s started to jeer while Darren leered, and Lula made a sound that could best be described as a growl and launched herself off her stool.

Kacey and Harley made a concerted grab for her. Lula could be unpredictable, as both knew to their cost.

'C'mon, don't do this,' Harley murmured. 'It's only Darren an' that, you know they're muppets.'

Kacey nodded, taking Lula's other arm. 'Yeah, just ignore 'em. Not worth it.'

'Ooooh, an' who do you think you are, Kacey Barry?' Darren asked. 'Got a bit above yourself, 'ave you? Decided yer better than everyone else? Look at yer, you can't even be bothered to dress right, you look like you just rolled out of bed, like lads do.' A pause. 'Oh yeah, that's right, I forgot. You're not a proper girl, are you. You're not a boy either, you're just a freak!'

Kacey folded inside, his words biting deep. She didn't need to be reminded of how insignificant she was, how useless she was. She was just a waste of space but it'd been Barry who'd died. Barry who would have chewed Darren into itty-bits for saying such a thing to his sister. Once upon a time Dynasty would have jumped to her defence, but there was no Dynasty at school today and at home… she'd taken to locking herself in her room and burying herself in her schoolwork, suspension or no suspension. There was no-one to stand behind and Kacey was frail and weak, exposed to the world.

'Miss, are you gonna let him talk like that?' Harley demanded. 'Did you hear what he said?'

'I—' Miss Spark faltered and the class grew utterly still, the Year 10s vibrating with suppressed excitement and the Year 11s watchful, ready to defend one of their own. 'Darren, you really shouldn't have said that, should you?'

'But miss, _look_ at her!'

'Look at yourself!' Lula shouted. 'You're even worse, you sit there and drool over the girls with your mouth open, you are a pervert!'

Miss Spark lurched into action at that.

'Right, I've had it with you, Lula. That's the second time in five minutes you've yelled across the room and I won't put up with it. Cooler!'

Kacey was on her feet before she had time to think. 'Miss, you can't, she was just bein' a mate, standin' up for me an' all! If you're gonna send anyone to the cooler it should be me!'

Year 11 exploded at the mere suggestion and Miss Spark picked up a long ruler and cracked it across her bench, causing the apparatus sitting there to wobble ominously.

'_Shut up!_ Why can't you behave like human beings instead of nasty horrid animals who won't sit down and _listen_? In fact, I've had dogs behave better than you do, d'you hear that, you lot? A _dog_ behaves better than you, although I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, given what's in this room. Let's see, foreigners, check, kids in care, check, oh and let's not forget, a _Barry_—' She broke off when the door swung open.

'I think you should stop right there,' Mrs Mulgrew said in her iciest tones, and Kacey could have sobbed with relief. She was shaking from Miss Spark's onslaught, and a glance at her compeers showed that they were looking equally stunned, including the Year 10s. The English teacher transferred her glare from Miss Spark to the class at large. 'It's nearly Break. Take it early—and believe me, this isn't the last you've heard of this. Go!'

They didn't need to be told twice, grabbing their things and streaming past their former Headmistress in dead silence. Kacey, Harley and Lula hung back to the end.

'Are you OK, Kacey?' Mrs Mulgrew asked, and Kacey nodded, refusing to meet the older woman's eyes.

'It wasn't Kacey's fault,' Lula said, her hands warm on Kacey's arm. 'It was Darren's fault, he started it, and then _she_—' Her voice started to rise as she jerked her head in Miss Spark's direction and Mrs Mulgrew lifted a finger.

'That's enough. Take Kacey to Mrs Budgen and get her a drink, it looks as if she needs it. And Lula?' The trio halted. 'I don't want this spread across the school, do you understand me? If any of the others start to talk I'm relying on you three to choke them off.'

'We'll try, miss,' Kacey volunteered in a small voice. She was only too happy to do so; she felt physically ill at the thought of the lesson's events becoming common coin throughout the school.

Mrs Mulgrew's features relaxed and she gave them a short nod. 'Good. I'll catch up with you later.' A small movement ushered them out, but Kacey turned to look over her shoulder as the classroom door shut behind them and her chin lifted at what she saw.

Miss Spark was sobbing openly and Mrs Mulgrew's rigid posture told Kacey all she needed to know. Some of the tightly coiled anger and hurt inside began to dissipate; one way or another, she knew that justice would be done.

* * *

**Soooo... next time: Christine and Sue clash, Connor reacts to his mother's news, and Simon spills more than he should. **

**Don't forget to let me know what you think!**


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